Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
by frompen2paper
Summary: Tristan Dugrey left the halls of Chilton a lost little boy. When he and his best friend return to Hartford on leave, Tristan reconnects with Rory Gilmore, showing her his transformation from arrogant society boy to man who just might steal her heart.
1. Give Me a Solution and Watch Me Run

_**Who I Am Hates Who I've Been**_

**Disclaimer**: _Gilmore Girls is not my brainchild. That honor is bestowed upon the genius that is Amy Sheman-Palladino_.

**Timeframe**: _Beginning Season 3, pre-the Dean/Jess debacle where Dean is still the steady boyfriend and Jess is a friend, then Season 6 pre-Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out_

**Pairings**: _Trory_

_Tristan Dugrey left the halls of Chilton a lost little boy. Now at Amherst Military Academy, he has found himself reformed. When he and his best friend return to Hartford on leave, Tristan reconnects with Rory Gilmore and spends the next five years showing her his transformation from arrogant society boy to a man who just might steal her heart._

**Chapter 1**

_Give Me a Solution and Watch Me Run With It_

Up, down, up, down, up, down. The steady pumping out of push-ups that had once left him exhausted and aching had now become a rhythm, the months of exercise firming his adolescent body into a machine of solid muscle. Beside him, his partner in offense and closest friend in the academy reputed for "shaping hoodlums into the men of tomorrow," met his uniform pace as their bodies moved in sync to the barking count. Slowly, a pair of clear gray eyes winking with mischief flicked over to his as a laughing smile curved his mouth.

"Find something funny, Cadet Beaumont? What about you, Cadet Dugrey?"

Fighting to control their laughter, Tristan Dugrey and Riley Beaumont hollered out in unison through the pouring rain dotting their faces, dripping down from the lack of hair atop each head.

"Sir, no sir!"

"Then hold your position!"

Arms quivering with the strain of holding themselves in an upright position, the pair struggled with the combined effort of choking back laughter as well as keeping their bodies aloft.

"And down."

Slumping down to rest on the muddied ground, the two teenagers glanced up at their major's scowling face.

"That's enough punishment for you cadets, but next time, shall we refrain from dumping pink dye into the white loads?"

Identical smirks tilting a corner of each mouth, both boys scrambled up to stand bolt upright at attention, "Sir, yes sir!"

Nodding with satisfaction, the major glowered down at their impassive faces, seemingly contrite "Alright then, DISMISSED!"

As they jogged away proceeding a sharp salute, a faint grumble could be heard through the pattering of rain, "If only they weren't head of the class…"

- - -

Tristan Dugrey sat on his bed, pen in hand, paper splayed across his lap as he penned another line in a letter to his grandfather, keeping the running chronicles of his life at Amherst Military Academy. In some strange and inexplicable way, Tristan enjoyed this peaceful existence. Here, no one knew the name Dugrey, and he had no reputation to uphold, only the one he manifested for himself. In his year at Amherst, he rose rapidly through the ranks as he plunged headlong into his transformation. By the end of his junior year, Tristan had attained the rank of First Sergeant. Now, almost halfway into his senior year, he had elevated himself to the title of Lieutenant Colonel, serving as the Executive Officer to his battalion. Even his studies had improved. At Chilton, he was covertly intelligent, third in the class behind Rory and Paris. Now, he was in the competition for valedictorian. Perhaps the most significant change for him, however, was his mentality. Now matured, Tristan looked on his Chilton self with disdain. Simply put, he was stupid, and his experience at Amherst Military Academy proved to be liberating. The Tristan society and its bearings had corrupted vanished, and in its place was a Tristan he liked to think had a bit more sense and semblance of the important things that extended beyond money and girls.

His attention on the task at hand, he barely glanced up as Riley Beaumont sauntered in, toweling his head dry. As he glanced at his best friend, Tristan quirked a small smile, remembering how they had met.

_**Tristan Dugrey glanced around at the bleak gray surroundings of his current predicament. As he surveyed the barracks, a gleeful catcall came from the doorway. Flicking his deep sapphire gaze to the source of the noise, Tristan spotted a stocky boy, his black hair shaved short**_

"_**Weeelll, lookie here, fellas. We have ourselves a new fishie straight from plebe camp. And a purdy one at that."**_

_**The boy stopped short, looking Tristan up and down with an appraising eye, "Well, fishie, where are you from?"**_

"_**Connecticut."**_

**_The boy squared up to Tristan, his dark eyes smug with a false authority, "Connecticut, _sir_."_**

**_Tristan smirked, not intimidated in the least. His eyes flicked down to the nametag on the boy's right breast reading Fordham, "There's no need to call me 'sir.'"_**

_**The two guys with Fordham grabbed his shoulders, forcing him back against the barrack wall. A lanky redhead glanced at the stocky boy, obviously the leader, "Cheeky one, isn't he, Eric?"**_

_**A brunette on Tristan's right gave the shoulder in his grasp a shove, "Yeah, Fordham, what should we do to this one?"**_

**_Eric Fordham leered at Tristan, his back against the wall, glaring in annoyance, "I think we should teach this one some manners, boys. Let's start with introductions. I'm Eric Fordham." He smirked upwards to Tristan's eye level, "You might want to remember that." Jerking a head to the redheaded boy and the brunette holding Tristan down, Eric grinned._**

"_**Those two are Jimmy Strong and Kent Lee. Rule number one," Fordham smirked, "You don't want to cross us."**_

**_Before Eric could continue his lesson on manners, a shout halted him, "Correction, Fordham. You don't want to cross _me_."_**

_**Eric straightened as a tall, brunette boy strode purposefully in their direction, his clear, gray eyes flashing with authority. Immediately, Eric Fordham and his two lackeys snapped to a reluctant attention to the highest ranking cadet in the junior class.**_

_**His strong jaw set, the lean, rugged boy glared down at the three cadets, "Let him go."**_

**_Grudgingly, the two sets of arms released their grip, and the newcomer stared down Fordham with an unyielding gaze heavy with intensity, "I hope you three aren't causing the new kid any problems. I'd hate to think he's developing a bad sense of this school already."_**

_**Eric bristled, hoping to restore some semblance of his dignity, "No, we aren't."**_

"_**No, what, Fordham?"**_

**_Seething with resentment, Fordham bit out a sentence through clenched teeth, "No, _sir_. We aren't causing him trouble."_**

_**The taller boy leveled the three cadets with an icy stare, "Excellent. Now, if I'm not mistaken, you and Cadets Lee and Strong all have garbage duty in the mess."**_

_**Unable to refute a direct order from their superior, the three boys snapped off reluctant salutes before trudging out in departure.**_

_**The boy turned to Tristan, his steady eyes calculating, "You okay?"**_

_**Tristan leered, "Look, soldier boy, I didn't need your help. I had things under control."**_

**_Quirking an amused eyebrow, the guy barked out a harsh laugh, "You're one of those society jobs, aren't you? Straight from New England and bred with a silver spoon in your mouth, rolling in the nine figure bank account that's been in your family for generations." Shaking his head, the boy squared up to Tristan's aggressive stance._**

"_**One thing you need to know, rich boy, is that here, you pick a fight, you'll get beat down. Especially against someone like Fordham, who's been here a long time. Times that by three, and you'll be in the infirmary for a month. One of our classes here is hand to hand combat. The worst you've ever faced was probably because some ignorant spud scraped the paint job on your Porsche. Do me a favor and spare me the tough act." Tristan's haughty sneer faltered a bit, the truth behind the boy's statement.**_

"**_Here, it's different. You might have been the king down at Wherever, USA, but at Amherst, you're nothing more than a new cadet trying to break into the ranks. And I'm gonna tell you: it ain't easy. People around here don't take lightly to a new fish so late in the game, and Mommy and Daddy's wealth and name can't help you out here." _**

**_Tristan broke his silence, scoffing slightly, "Yeah well, then it's a good thing I stopped asking for their help a long time ago…"_**

**_The boy silently gazed at Tristan, his penetrating gray eyes surveying the new recruit. As Tristan began to slightly feel unnerved, a corner of his mouth curved upward, "I like you, kid. You've got balls. Call me crazy, I know you're a blue blood society type, but I think you're gonna be okay here. Just give it time."_**

**_He extended a hand, "Name's Beaumont. Riley Beaumont."_**

**_Tristan grasped the offering in a firm shake, "Tristan Dugrey." He scrutinized the leanly muscled boy, observing the badges displaying his rank on the collars of his casual uniform and his cap, "You must be pretty important around here."_**

**_Riley shrugged, "I've been here pretty long. Since the seventh grade. Kinda merits some respect. Highest ranked in the junior class. Stick with me, no one's gonna mess with you."_**

**_Tristan smiled ruefully, "Y'know, you know, you were right. Back at home, that used to be me."_**

**_Riley scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, Fabio, but this ain't home. You're starting fresh here." _**

_**Tristan sighed, "Don't I know that."**_

"_**C'mon, Preppy. You're lucky enough to be assigned to my bunk. I'll show you the ropes."**_

"Another one to the old man, eh TJ?"

Nodding absently, Tristan scrawled out another sentence as Riley sank down on his bed. Reaching over to his nightstand, he pulled out a battered and well-worn book. Removing the folded piece of paper that marked his spot, Riley produced a pen, settling back against the pillows to read.

Tristan glanced over at his best friend and smirked as he read the title of the book clutched in Riley's hands, "Geeze Beau, you memorize that book yet? I mean, not that you can read it through all the notes in the margins."

His pewter eyes flicking in Tristan's direction, Riley languidly turned the page, scribbling another note on the well-inked sheet, "I denno, Dugrey. Ever send all those letters you've written Mary?"

Tristan chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender, "Okay, Beaumont. You've got me there. Geez, you'd think after almost a year I'd be able to keep up with you."

Riley grinned, twirling his pen through his fingers, "Damn straight, TJ. And I'd have you know that this book, as well as the many others you have accused me of 'memorizing,' is not only for the sole pleasure of good literature but is also helping me write that novel that will propel me away from the clutches of my oppressive parents."

Tristan chuckled, "Alrighty then, Beau. So how long do you think until you bust out of here?"

Riley scoffed ruefully, "And burden my family with my insignificant presence? Are you kidding me? I like it here. Here, I'm worth something." His hand drifting down to the medallion resting against the middle of his chest, Riley snorted, "The only person who gave a damn was my uncle, and he's gone. They'll as soon bust me out then you send all those letters to Stars Hollow."

Tristan's gaze on the page in front of him, he could only nod in agreement, sympathizing with his best friend's plight. Janlan Dugrey was the one of the few members of his family who cared about this welfare at the academy. His father only wrote sparingly, his purpose to remind his exiled son that he was a disgrace to the Dugrey name, hence is banishment from Hartford. His mother was too busy drowning herself in society functions and chardonnay to bother with the son she probably failed to notice was gone. And then there were his friends, or more accurately, the people in love with his image. His many admirers had written to him dutifully while he was away, and Paris had even sent the occasional letter. However, the most surprising piece of mail was the letter he had received from Mary herself, Rory Gilmore. It was short, and it was bitter, but Tristan cherished it more than the pages he received from Summer.

_Dear Bible Boy,_

_See what happens when you don't listen to me? That's right, your butt ends up in military school. That hair you prided yourself on? It'll be less than an inch long. Those days you showed up to class late? Not going to happen. I don't know whether to feel sorry for you for being so stupid or laugh at the justice of it all. I tried the latter once but ended up feeling the former. But who knows, maybe this will teach you some manners, and if you ever come back, you might actually know how to treat a girl._

_Rory Gilmore_

_P.S. Notice the lack of Mary? Learn it, Dugrey._

Riley smirked to himself, covertly watching his best friend as he took out the familiar piece of stationary. Riley had seen Tristan produce the barely there letter from Rory Gilmore and read it over time and time again, every instance with a small smile playing on his face. Each time he read it, Tristan would begin writing a letter to the girl, pouring his misguided heart and soul from his ballpoint pen onto the paper. He would sit there for hours, writing about anything that caught his fancy and the finished product would be pages long. Then he would fold the letter up, penning the address with a meticulous care before sticking it into the envelope. But Tristan never sent the letters. Each time, he would study his completed result, the thoughts flowing through his head before sighing deeply, sticking the envelope into a box on his desk.

Riley watched Tristan's steady blue eyes read over another carefully inscribed line in the letter to his grandfather. Tristan had told Riley all about Rory Gilmore,

"the girl who never gave him the chance." She was all he ever talked about concerning Chilton. According to Tristan, she was so repulsed by his arrogance that he never received so much as a second glance. But in Riley's mind, the Tristan he knew now stood a chance with Rory Gilmore. So he had taken it upon himself to send a few of those letters to Stars Hollow by acquiring them with the talents that had gotten him shipped off to Amherst in the first place.

- - -

The harsh sound of the bell permeated Rory Gilmore's isolated thoughts in her AP Calculus class. Slightly bemused as she gathered her things, Rory followed the herd of Chilton students as they exited the classroom.

"I hope you're finished with that latest review you were working on."

Rory jumped as the callous yet familiar tone of Paris Gellar accosted her the moment she set foot in the hallway. Yanking herself away from her ponderings, Rory nodded to Paris, making her way through the crush of students to her locker.

"Yeah, Paris. I'll have it to you by lunch."

Leveling Rory with her trademark icy stare, Paris gave her a curt nod, "Good. I won't let the Franklin miss a deadline due to your lack of punctuality." In a whirl of blonde hair, Paris strode away.

"Aye aye, Captain," Rory muttered under her breath as she shut her locker. Leaning her head against the cool metal, she allowed the rush of a deep exhale to flow from her lungs. Noticing the lack of public indecency in the locker next to her courtesy of Tristan and his flavor of the week, Rory allowed herself to drift back to her contemplation in Calculus. Tristan Dugrey had been gone for almost a year, and sadly enough, she had found herself missing him. Or, more specifically, their days that used to teem with witty banter. Besides her mom, Tristan had been the only one who could keep up with her. Luke's monotonic grunts were directed to her mother, Jess only spoke in single words, most of the time monosyllabic, and Dean was too nice to disagree. The thought of his abrupt departure at the beginning of junior year hadn't really passed through her conscience until she had received a letter from him, or more specifically, his best friend.

_Dear Rory Gilmore,_

_You don't know me, but trust me when I say I know a lot about you. Now before you frown in disgust and throw away this letter assuming that I am some deranged stalker who has chosen you to be his next victim, let me explain. My name is Riley Beaumont, and I attend Amherst Military Academy with an old classmate of yours named Tristan Dugrey. I just wanted to pass on some letters that he has neglected to send you during his time here. You have no idea when I say the arrogant asshole you knew is way different out here in North Carolina. Who knows, maybe you might find something you like._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Cadet Colonel Riley Beaumont_

Opening the accompanying package, Rory was surprised to see a stack of letters spill from the envelope ranging in length from a few paragraphs to extensive pages. Wary at first, Rory had tossed away the package, disregarding the letters with the idea that Tristan would simply fill the pages with his normal insults and lewd innuendos. But as the package sat ever so innocently on her desk, Rory found herself intrigued and curiosity got the better of her. Sitting down with a cup of coffee, she read his letters diligently, all the while wondering why he was taking the time to write. As Tristan's words flowed from the paper to her mind, Rory found that the written statements showed such a different side of Tristan Dugrey. Far from the jackass she had know, an articulate, perceptive, cynical, yet entirely amusing, Tristan emerged. In his letters, he narrated the life of a cadet in Amherst, dating his rise from "plebe," or new cadet, to his current rank of Lieutenant Colonel while etching lines of humorous commentary that left her in stitches. Along with the letters, Riley had sent a list of some of Tristan's accomplishments, and Rory was surprised to find they were widespread amongst both academics and extracurricular activities. He was one of the highest ranking cadets in among seniors, second only to Riley himself, and his G.P.A. surpassed his whole class by several points. Rory was taken aback. This wasn't the Tristan Dugrey who used to rule the halls of Chilton Prep. That Tristan wouldn't have challenged himself by taking a whole course load of AP classes or asserted himself by becoming captain of the lacrosse team. Chilton Tristan had barely scraped by, flying under the radar in all facets of education except the social spectrum. Had the world gone wacky? Or was it really that unfathomable that Tristan had changed?

- - -

Tristan Dugrey hefted a heavy sigh as he stepped out of the terminal in Hartford's airport. He relaxed slightly as Riley came up beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, TJ. Remember, you've done well."

Tristan smiled weakly, "Thanks, Beau. It's easier with you here."

Riley smirked, "Yeah, well, not like my parents wanted me around, anyway."

Together, the two cadets strolled through the airport, oblivious to the stares sent their way at the pristine uniforms they were clothed in as the bright light of the airport reflected off of the many medals adorning their chests. Making their way down the escalator, they were greeted by Tristan's family that included his parents and grandparents. As greetings were exchanged, Tristan's father, Gregory Dugrey, looked his son up and down with an appraising eye.

"You look good, Tristan."

His face impassive, Tristan gave a curt nod to his father as he stood stiffly in his dress uniform suited for leave, "Thank you, Father."

Gregory raised an eyebrow, "And I see Amherst has taught you some manners as well. Very nice, son" Turning to his son's companion, Gregory extended a hand.

"And you must be Riley."

Grasping the elder Dugrey's palm, Riley nodded, "Yes, sir, Mr. Dugrey. Riley Beaumont. Thank you for having me, sir."

Giving Riley the once-over, Gregory smiled, "Ah, it is no problem at all. After all, your accomplishments deserve some respect."

Riley nodded, "Thank you, sir."

Gregory nodded, observing the awards splayed across the jackets of their dress uniforms, "I'm glad to see that Tristan has been associating himself with exceptional people."

Riley gave a sardonic grin at the elder Dugrey's statement, "Well, to be fair, Mr. Dugrey, I wasn't an 'exceptional person' prior to enrolling in Amherst. But, like Tristan, I've amended that."

For the first time, Janlan Dugrey spoke, his tone dignified and warm, "Well, son, that's all that matters, now isn't it?"

Riley quirked a wry smile, "Tell that to my parents, sir."

Gregory chuckled uneasily, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder, "Well, Tristan, your mother and I really must be getting back to work, and your grandfather has a very important meeting. We have taken the liberty to bring along your Porsche. I'm sure Riley and yourself can entertain yourselves until tonight."

Tristan nodded tightly as his father tugged him into a distant hug. Before departing, Gregory Dugrey turned back to his son, "Oh, and Tristan? You might want to visit Chilton. I'm sure Headmaster Charleston will want to meet with you again."

As his mother proceeded his father, Olivia Dugrey added to her husband's statement, "And be back before seven. We're hosting a gathering at our house to welcome you back. And please be dressed in those uniforms."

Janlan Dugrey approached his grandson, wrapping him in a warm embrace. His still-handsome face split into an affectionate smile as he surveyed the young man before him, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling with happiness.

"It's good to have you home, Tristan."

A corner of Tristan's mouth quirked upward in a smile, "Thanks, Granddad."

Janlan placed a hand on both of Tristan's shoulders, "I'm proud of you m'boy. You really stuck one to your father."

Tristan chuckled, "Yeah, well, it's not like he cares, right?"

Janlan's striking eyes clouded over with remorse, "You father is a fool, Tristan. Sometimes I wonder how I could have raised such a man to neglect his son. Maybe it was partly my doing." Janlan cradled his grandson's strapping face with a strong hand.

"Don't do anything for him, boy. He doesn't deserve it. You succeed for you."

Tristan nodded seriously, taking his grandfather's words to heart, "Yes, sir."

Janlan clapped a hand "That's my boy. Good luck with Charleston. For I hear, he's expecting you with the lowest of expectations. That's another one you've proven wrong. I'll see you tonight."

Tristan smiled, "Bye, Granddad."

Janlan strode briskly away, following the path of his son. Glancing at his parents' departing backs, Tristan muttered in an undertone to Riley, "Go see Charleston…of course. They couldn't resist showing off their reformed son. I swear, I'm going to be dragged by the collar to all their stuffy society friends so they can gloat about how military school kicked some sense into me."

Riley quirked a playfully derisive eyebrow, "Well, didn't it?"

Tristan chuckled, the gesture of mirth not quite reaching his piercing sapphire gaze, "More like you did." Hauling his bag up higher on his shoulder, Tristan shrugged, "I denno, Riley. I was a stupid kid around these people. No one gave me any rules to follow, and I just ran with it. I don't really want to be reminded of that."

"Or you could just do what you suggested beforehand." Tristan glanced at his best friend inquiringly at his statement. Riley gestured to Tristan's uniform, "Show everyone how you changed."  
Tristan stayed silent as they loaded their bags into the trunk of his Porsche. Walking around to the driver's side, Tristan climbed in, the thoughtful expression still splayed across his features.

"So, Society Boy, where to first?"

Snapping from his reverie, Tristan smirked, "My former kingdom, otherwise referred to as Hell."

"You're honestly going? You want to go to school on our break from _school_?"

Tristan chuckled, "Well, you did say I should show everyone I've changed." He shrugged, "My father mentioned my former headmaster wanted to see me. I figure, where better than meet with the man who constantly reminded me I would never amount to anything in the real world?"

Riley's face took on a pained look, "So this is the only time in your existence that you choose to listen to me? What happened to the time I said it's better to park Sergeant Hessler's car on the roof of the commandant's office instead of the science building? Or when I said don't use the exploding ink on Johnson, use it on Fordham?" But as his rant continued, Riley sat up straight.

"Hold on a minute. You're not doing it for Charleston. You're doing it for Mary." Riley smirked at the guilty look Tristan was trying to conceal from his friend.

"You're going back to the place you, yourself, referred to as the fiery depths of hell so you can show a certain brunette that you are not the arrogant prick you once were." Riley threw back his head in raucous laughter, "Damn, Dugrey, this is classic." Throwing out his hands in a dramatic gesture, Riley deepened his voice to mimic the announcer in movie trailers.

"Tristan Dugrey walked away from the halls of Chilton Prep a boy looking to find his way. Now, a year later, he returns changed and reformed to win the heart of the girl who never gave him the chance."

Grumbling slightly at Riley's mirth at his expense, Tristan kept his attention on the road as his Porsche careened down the familiar highway that led to Chilton, "Yeah, yeah, Beau, go ahead and laugh it up."

"What the hell do you think I'm doing, Dugrey?"

As Riley's glee floated through the close quarters of the Porsche, Tristan shook his head in exasperation, his eyes focused determinedly on the road. He was not going to admit it, but Riley was right. He was going for Mary. He was going for the sole purpose of showing her he had gotten his act together. He was not the little boy who ran away.

- - -

Tristan cruised down the familiar streets of Hartford, making his way to the big, stone building he had ruled with an iron fist. There, no one questioned his authority and fawned at his feet. He was king, adored by all. Shutting off the engine of his Porsche, he sat back to stare upward at the humongous building that was his former kingdom. From his side, Riley whistled.

"Damn, Tristan. This is it?"

A hefty sigh bursting from his lungs, Tristan nodded, "Uh huh. I spent two years in that blasted inferno."

Riley quirked an eyebrow, "It kinda gives off a 'lock 'em in the dungeons feeling, doesn't it?"

Tristan smirked, "I always thought more like 'off with their heads'…"

Leaning up against the door of the Porsche, Riley adjusted the frame cap on his head and straightened the blue dress jacket.

"Alright then, Dugrey. I'd say an entrance is in order."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "An entrance?"

Riley shrugged, "I think it'd be a kick. Show them how you've changed. Besides, I'll even let you walk in first. Y'know, give you the feeling what it's like to outrank me…"

"Asshole." Tristan squared his shoulders, fixing his own cap, "Alright then, Beau. Let's give them a show."

- - -

The halls of Chilton Preparatory were bustling with student life when the big stone doors flew open. Every single person stopped and rotated to face the two men that had sauntered in, their steady, even pace quick with military precision. The sunlight reflected off of the many badges and medals adorning each broad chest and the whole student body took in the two men's pristine dress uniforms. Both boys strode purposefully towards the administration offices, and the minute the doors closed, cutting the two outsiders from the rest of the school, the halls immediately set off with a buzz of gossip at the two strangers.

- - -

Inwardly, Tristan smirked at the many inquiring stares sent his and Riley's way as they walked down the Chilton hallways. They had deliberately coordinated their steps to an identical and brisk march. Inconspicuously, his blue eyes scanned over the crowd, searching out for one particular brunette. A slight smile broke through his façade of military detachment when he spotted a whirlwind of chocolate hair hastily rushing away from his direction. He knew she had seen him. Now the challenge was to talk to her, really hold a civil conversation, and show Rory Gilmore that the military uniform wasn't solely for show. He really had changed.

- - -

Rory Gilmore could honestly say that she was oblivious to the scatter of Chilton gossip that ran rampant through the halls. Most of the time, she ignored all the flutter of conversation that stifled her through the days in school. But even a person as unaware as Rory Gilmore could not fail to notice the wave of hush that crashed over the Chilton student body. Raising her eyes from her book, Rory stared in the general direction of the uproar, or lack thereof. Her heart stalled as she glimpsed two men, their long and lengthy strides moving in unison with a practiced accuracy. Her eyes drifted up to absorb the pristine uniform, and gazing up into steady gaze of the shorter of the two tall boys, Rory immediately recognized the piercing sapphire gaze. Panic seizing her senses, Rory reverted to the reaction she seemed to most associate with Tristan Dugrey. She ran.


	2. Who I Am Will Take the Second Chance

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything except Riley Beaumont._

_Wow, what great feedback, I'm ecstatic you all like this story. I know that OC's are generally frowned upon, but I must warn all future readers that the two OCs that are in this fic play an extremely vital role in the development in the Tristan/Rory plotline both in the present and future. All essential characters: The Gilmores, Jess, Dean, Luke, and Lorelai will all make appearances in the future, so stay with me, here! And onward!_

**Chapter 2**

_Who I Am Will Take the Second Chance You Gave Me_

Tristan smiled as he took off his cap, placing it under his arm. Pausing for a moment, he took in the inside of the administration office. The setting was very familiar; he had been hauled inside many times for a "talking to" with Headmaster Charleston. But this time, it was different. Sadly enough, he was there voluntary. Approaching the secretary's desk, Tristan waited as the kind face of Mrs. McKinney smiled at him in recognition.

"Well if it isn't the former king, himself, Tristan Dugrey."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head at the secretary who never hid her dislike for the pompous headmaster of Chilton and always sympathized with Tristan every time he was yanked in by his ear for harmless, albeit mischievous, pranks.

"Nice to see you, Mrs. McKinney."

The old lady smiled, glancing up through her eyeglasses at the young man, "Interesting feeling to be on the other side of the ball, isn't it?"

Tristan grinned, "I'll say. I've never been in this office without accompanying a pink detention slip…"

Mrs. McKinney gave him a reproving look as she shuffled papers on her desk, "You know, Mr. Dugrey, I thought your father was kidding when he said you were coming here for a visit on your leave. Now, I ask you this, why in the world would you return to a place you admit to being 'hell?'"

Riley leaned in conspiratorially to the elderly woman, "I asked him the same thing, ma'am."

Tristan shot a glare in the direction of his friend. Turning back to the secretary, Tristan shrugged, "Well, you know my father, Mrs. McKinney. No one says no to Gregory Dugrey. Besides, what better kick in the ass…uh, butt," He amended, catching the secretary's admonitory glance, "to give the good Headmaster who has never failed to remind me that I will never amount to anything in the real world?"

Mrs. McKinney chuckled, nodding her head in agreement, "Well, I can't refute you there, Tristan. The Headmaster is waiting for both of you."

Placing his hat on his head, Tristan knocked first on the closed door of the headmaster's office. The familiar stiff and pompous voice floated from the other side.

"Come in."

Opening the door, Tristan and Riley proceeded through the entryway, removing their caps as they waited for the Headmaster. Charleston glanced upwards at the pair. His eyes reverting to Tristan, a mocking frown crossed his features.

"What, Mr. Dugrey, no salute?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tristan stood stiffly, "With all due respect, Headmaster Charleston, you are not military personnel. Therefore we are not obligated to salute you."

Charleston nodded, sighing in defeat, "Well, Mr. Dugrey. I must say, it is quite the surprise to hear you are abiding by rules."

Tristan tensed, his emotions controlled behind a set jaw. Charleston rose, coming to stand before his desk.

"Your father has told me you have done considerably well at Amherst, and judging by your rank and medals, I take it you have been 'reformed?'"

Tristan stiffened, "I'd like to think so, Headmaster."

Charleston paused, "Would you consider coming back to Chilton, then?"

His brow furrowing, Tristan shook his head, "I'm afraid not, Headmaster. I've come to like my life at Amherst. Like you said, I've been reformed, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Charleston's face took on a glint of interest as he studied the stiff young man that had caused him so much grief during his time cavorting through Chilton's hallways. He glanced at Tristan's companion, also standing rigidly at attention.

"And you must be Mr. Beaumont."

The slightly taller boy shifted his gaze to the elderly headmaster, and he jerked his head in affirmation, "Yes, sir." Extending his hand, Riley grasped Charleston's in a firm grip.

"Riley Beaumont, sir."

Charleston nodded, scrutinizing Tristan's companion. Riley met his stare evenly, his clear gray eyes unyielding to the headmaster. Charleston gestured to Tristan.

"I hear from Gregory that you two are at the head of the senior class. Is that true, Mr. Beaumont?"

Riley's head jerked in a curt nod, "Yes, sir. Although I outrank Tristan, he leads the valedictorian race of our senior class by a considerable margin."

"Interesting, Mr. Dugrey. I daresay you neglected to show such dedication in Chilton. What is it about Amherst that brings out this excellence?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow at his former headmaster, "Honestly, Headmaster? It's because Amherst is not Chilton, and Raleigh, North Carolina is not Hartford, Connecticut."

Charleston chuckled, "Interesting, indeed, Mr. Dugrey." He gazed at the two boys, "I assume you are going to be prowling these halls for a while?"

As Tristan nodded, Charleston handed them two Visitor's passes, ushering the pair out the door, "Try not to cause too much uproar, boys?"

Striding out the door, Riley placed his cap back on his head, turning to his best friend, "Dude, is he always like that?"

Tristan chuckled, "Always a pompous jackass or acting like he has a six-foot baton shoved up his ass?"

Riley smirked, "Actually, I was leaning more towards insufferable numbskull but that works, too…" Surveying the bleak Chilton walls with interest, Riley smirked.

"So, Your Majesty, where to first?"

Tristan swiveled, leading his friend with a hitch of his head, "Mr. Stecher's class. AP American Government. You're gonna love this guy. He taught me freshman year. He's notorious for teasingly patronizing freshmen. He's a former Marine, and runs class like Sergeant Hessler runs drills. But the guy's hilarious. He's been here longer than Charleston and taught everyone and their brother. Taught my dad, uncle, mom, and was in my grandfather's graduating class."

Riley laughed, "Sounds awesome…but you're stupider than I thought if you think that I'd go for that." Riley shook his head, "C'mon, TJ. I know you better than anyone. Now look me in the eye and tell me this isn't because Rory Gilmore is in that class."

Tristan shifted, the muscles twitching in his jaw. Glancing up, he was unable to meet Riley's even gaze, "Alright, she is in that class. But given her track record with me. I'm not allowing her the option to run."

Riley chuckled, "Man. You're killing me right now. Okay…let's show her Tristan Dugrey, Version 2.0."

Tristan smirked, knocking softly on the classroom door. "With pleasure."

- - -

Rory ducked her head down, taking a note from Mr. Stecher's lecture. The elderly teacher whirled from the chalkboard, sending a white chalk mark streaking beneath a word. Turning, Mr. Stecher clapped his hands.

"Okay, maggots. Who's got the answer? Who can boost my ailing ego and show me they have been paying any semblance of attention?" Mr. Stecher frowned as his eyes zoned in on Justin McAdams nodding down in his sleep. The class watched in amusement as their teacher lofted the piece of chalk through the air to thump lightly on Justin's head. The jock jerked, his eyes staring around in bemusement. Mr. Stecher smirked as Rory joined her class in their mirth at Justin's expense.

"Okay, Mr. McAdams, now that you are generous enough to provide me with your undivided attention, can you tell me the weaknesses of the Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union?"

Before Justin could answer, a soft knock sounded on the door, drawing Mr. Stecher's focus. The teacher smirked, gesturing to the young man.

"Don't think you're off the hook, McAdams."

Throwing the door open, Mr. Stecher grinned at the two towering figures in the doorway, "Well, I'll be damned. They kick you out already?"

Rory peered in the direction of the doorway as a deep chuckle rumbled from the entrance, "Are you kidding? What an injustice to my talents. I busted out."

Stecher stepped back to allow the two statures in, conversing smartly with his guests. As the two boys clad in military uniforms strolled into the room, Rory withheld a gasp, allowing her pen to clatter to the floor. Reaching down to retrieve it, Rory straightened. The two boys had removed their military hats to reveal two heads, the hair shaved short. Tristan Dugrey grinned at Mr. Stecher, the lack of tousled tufts that once adorned his head highlighting his already brilliant blue eyes. His taller friend also had his brown hair shaved down, his intense pale gray eyes surveying the classroom with interest. Mr. Stecher gestured to the class.

"Class, I'm sure you all remember Tristan Dugrey who has graciously taken time out of his busy schedule to come and visit us." Mr. Stecher turned to the taller brunette boy.

"And I'm sure you will all extend a warm welcome to Mr. Riley Beaumont. After all, he has the patience to tolerate Mr. Dugrey."

Mr. Stecher motioned towards the board, indicating the area of study the class was currently partaking in, "Well, boys, as you can see, we are studying the earlier stages of the United States governmental structure." He turned to the two standing stiffly at attention.

"I assume correctly in believing you two have a rigorous study concerning our country's government?"

Both boys simultaneously grinned, imagining the occasionally foolhardy antics of their own beloved AP Government teacher. Turning back to Mr. Stecher, Tristan nodded.

"Yes, sir. That would be correct."

The elderly teacher lit up, "Well then, would you two care to participate in a bit of a quiz to show my students the lack of knowledge they possess but you most certainly will?"

Sharing a glance with his comrade, Tristan shrugged, "Sure, Mr. Stecher, why not?"

The ex-Marine pumped an excited fist, "Excellent. Right then, boys. As of now, this class is studying, more specifically, the constitutions of the early United States. Mr. Dugrey, please name for us the first constitution of the United States and the weaknesses that led to the Constitution that we know now." Stecher sent a glare to the jock seated on his left.

"Mr. McAdams, you might want to take notes…"

Tristan smirked, reveling in the question he had stored in the mind he had put to ready use away from Chilton. His eyes sought out a certain brunette, determinedly avoiding eye contact, "Before the Constitution as we now know it, the United States operated under the Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union. This first constitution was a loose union of states under the Continental Congress. States' rights were the primary concern of the US so Congress was unable to tax the states, regulate trade, or enforce treaties."

"Excellent!" Mr. Stecher levied his stare to Justin McAdams, "I hope you got all that, Mr. McAdams."

Stecher then turned to Riley, standing comfortably at Tristan's side, "Well, Mr. Beaumont, it would be rather rude of me to exempt you from this lovely exercise, and I would rather like to commend you for enduring Mr. Dugrey. So can you name and explain for me the first three articles of the Constitution of 1787?"

Riley squared his shoulders, "The first three Articles of the Constitution of 1787, or the present Constitution, state the branches of government. Article one dictates the legislative branch made up of the House of Representatives based on each state's population and the Senate where each state is equally represented as stated in the Connecticut Compromise of 1785. The second article explains the executive branch made up of the President of the United States, the Vice-President, and the cabinet. The third article explains the judicial branch which is made up of the Supreme Court. According to the verdict in _Marbury vs. Madison_, it is the Supreme Court's job to interpret the constitution and decide whether or not a law is 'constutional.'"

Stecher nodded with approval, "Excellent again!" The elderly man studied the two boys with a favorable eye, "It seems that military school has done you both well." He glanced at the insignias adorned on each boy's shoulders, his eyes drifting down to the medals with a practiced eye.

"Hm, Mr. Beaumont. A colonel. And Mr. Dugrey, a lieutenant colonel. Both members of the Battalion Staff. Academic wreaths, pilot's wings, the bronze cross, cadet excellence…Mighty impressive, boys." He raised an eyebrow at Tristan.

"Your father wasn't lying when he told me that you two are at the head of your class."

Tristan glanced down, "Well, sir, we don't like to brag…"

"But we can't really refute the truth…" Riley finished, grinning at the instructor.

Tristan nodded, "Riley's Battalion Commander for the Corps of Cadets, and I'm his Executive Officer."

"Impressive, indeed, both of you." Stecher glanced at the clock, "Well, I shouldn't keep you both, I'm sure you have many other places to visit. Thank you for stopping by."

As they placed their frame caps back on their heads, Tristan grinned, "It was our pleasure, Mr. Stecher."

Turning to depart, the ex-Marine's gruff voice called them back, "Boys? How about pleasing an old Marine with a bit of a salute?"

Grinning, the two boys nodded. Tristan's easy face instantly stiffened as he raised his voice to bellow the command.

"Atten-hut!"

The class watched with fascination as the two boys snapped ramrod-straight at attention. Snapping a sharp salute to touch their foreheads, Riley barked out the address.

"Colonel Riley Beaumont!"

Tristan followed in the call, his voice just as brusque as Riley's, "Lieutenant Colonel Tristan Dugrey!"

Their voiced united in the strident appeal, "Requesting permission to carry on, sir!"

A nostalgic glint shone in Stecher's kind eyes as he grinned, nodding at the two cadets, "Carry on, cadets."

Stopping at the doorway, Tristan and Riley turned back, a mischievous shine in both pairs of eyes. Whipping the caps off their heads, the duo bowed in dramatic fashion before exiting with a flourish. Rory watched them depart, glancing at Paris seated at her side.

"Was that weird? Or is it just me?"

The stern blonde shook her head with bemusement, "No, that was weird. Tristan actually seemed…_smart_…I hate what to think of my chances of being valedictorian were if he showed this much intelligence while he was here."

Rory leaned back in her chair. Paris was pretty much on point. The intelligence Rory knew Tristan possessed, but stubbornly refused to divulge, shone through Mr. Stecher's brief quiz. The passion she knew was present somewhere, smothered within the depths of his impassive and detached heart, emerged in the ardent military salute. It was something that no one had ever seen while he ruled their halls as the aloof and untouchable king. But this….dedication piqued her senses. It was one thing to have a presumption of Tristan through his letters, they could disclosed a limited amount of his change. It was another thing to see him recite information he would normally charm or BS his way out of. Was this really Tristan Dugrey? Returning her attention to the lecture, Rory shook thoughts of him out of her head. She had a boyfriend. They were happy. The military uniform was not fooling her. Tristan was still the same jackass he was when he left Chilton…she was sure of it.

- - -

As the bell rang for lunch, Tristan leaned up against a row of lockers, playing with the nametag pinned to his chest. Riley glanced down at his best friend, an indulgent smile tilting the corner of his mouth.

"Well, TJ, that exhausted whatever brainpower I had left over. Reciting the first three articles of the Constitution was not exactly present on my list of things to do. Sleeping and girl-scouting, yes. But education? No." Rile cocked an eyebrow.

"May I remind you we are on leave?"

Tristan rolled his eyes, playing with the buttons on his uniform, "Please, Riley, like I really expected Stecher to quiz us on our knowledge on the United States Constitution. Besides, it's not like you haven't memorized the textbook already…"

Riley grinned, "All I can say is that you better have impressed her with that stunt because I refuse to think intellectually until we are back in the confines of the academy."

Grunting, Tristan shrugged, absently scratching the hair at the nape of his neck, "I denno, Beau. I hope I did…"

"Tristan!"

A delighted grin split his face as the wave of blonde hair came hurtling in his direction. Spreading his arms, Tristan caught the bundle of energy, twirling her around as her gleeful laughter lit up the hallway. Setting the blonde on the ground, he pressed a loving kiss to her cheek as the sharp blue eyes twinkled adoringly back up at him.

"I can't believe you're back! Personally, I never thought you would last this long. You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Squealing in delight, the girl threw her arms around his neck, upending his cap in her excitement. Tristan hugged her close, closing his eyes as he buried his face in her hair, a contented smile curving his mouth.

"No, _you_ have no idea…"

- - -

As she walked down the hall, Rory's ears perked up at the excited shriek, and she turned in time to see Tristan twirl a blonde around in his arms. Rory stifled a sigh of relief. She was right, Tristan Dugrey was the same man-whore he was a year prior. He hadn't changed, and that performance in Mr. Stecher's class was a one-time occurrence. The world had righted itself again. Rolling her eyes, she muttered to Paris.

"It figures. Two minutes and Tristan's already picking up some girl."

Paris cocked an eyebrow, "Or saying hello to his sister."

Damn. And the axis tilted again. Rory frowned, turning to face her friend, "Tristan has a sister?"

Paris shot her a funny look, "Yeah. You didn't know that? She's a year behind us. Honestly, Gilmore, are you that oblivious to Chilton hearsay?"

Rory shrugged, "I guess so. I don't think I've ever really cared. Although, come to think of it, the thought of another Tristan is kind of scary…"

Paris laughed, "Don't worry about that. Alexandra, or Alex, is nothing like Tristan. Don't get me wrong, she seems to have inherited Tristan's notorious charm and charisma, but she isn't brash like he was. It's more of a quiet and reserved confidence." Paris glanced at the Dugrey siblings with a dry smile.

"But I do have to say, Alex is just as wanted and worshipped around here. The difference is she has no idea."

Rory smiled, "She sounds nice."

Paris shrugged, "She is…she's just about the sweetest girl in the world."

Rory smirked, "Than how the hell did she end up with Tristan as a brother?"

Pairs snorted, shaking her head, "Accidents do happen…"

- - -

Alexandra Dugrey beamed up at her brother. Stepping back, she surveyed his uniform, "Not bad, bro. You actually look like you've done something important at that school."

Tristan smirked down at his little sister, "And if I have?"

Alex smirked right back, "I wouldn't believe it."

Tristan staggered, dramatically retreating as if shot, "Urg, munchkin, you wound me!"

Alex giggled, plucking the cap off his head and placing it on her own, "Damn straight, big bro. You know I own you." She tilted her head, surveying Tristan's lack of hair.

"Wow, Tris. You weren't joking when you said they took a weed whacker to your hair…You know, your head was smaller than I thought. Much less proportional to the rest of you, too."

Tristan growled, snatching back his cap, returning it to its former position. "Watch your mouth, midget. I'm still older."

Riley observed brother and sister interact with a grin on his face. Shaking his head, Riley smirked at his best friend.

"Wow, TJ, and here I thought you couldn't keep up with _me_…"

Tristan diverted his glare to his friend, "Aw bite me, Beau…" Nudging his sister, Tristan began introductions.

"Alexandra Dugrey, my best friend, Riley Beaumont. Riley, my little sister, Alex."

Riley extended his hand, grasping her smaller one in his palm, "Nice to meet you."

Alex raised an eyebrow, taking in her brother's best friend. She gazed up into his clear, gray eyes, mesmerized by the warm shine in the orbs shining with intensity. Her breath caught slightly in her throat as his lips parted in a dashing grin. Clearing her throat, she smiled.

"Likewise. Although, I do have my doubts if you're admittedly a friend of my brother."

Riley's grin widened as Tristan growled at his little sister, "Well, it is a touchy subject among the social set, but I saved his behind from a beating his first day. I can't seem to shake him, not matter how I try. He just doesn't seem to catch the hint."

Alex laughed, her eyes lighting up as she found a kindred spirit in her incessant vocation of merciless teasing. Tristan scowled, socking Riley on the arm. Riley hardly noticed as his gaze flickered back to Alex. The Dugrey gene of beauty had definitely been passed onto the younger sibling, evident in Alex's luxurious blonde hair and dancing blue eyes. She was a feisty one, quick with a comeback and unabashedly audacious with her older brother that Riley found himself endeared.

Alex gestured to the cafeteria, "C'mon. It's lunch period, and I'm sure your legions will want to greet you with open arms and simpering compliments, Tris."

Following the blonde, Riley grinned. Maybe coming to Chilton wasn't such a bad idea after all…

- - -

"There you are. I was wondering where you disappeared off to."

Riley hefted himself to a standing position, "Hey man, not my fault the entire Chilton population converged on you like a swarm of bees to honey."

Tristan shrugged, "Yeah, well, notoriety warrants some attention. Unfortunately, that attention is from a bevy of mindless drones whose sole priority is social standing. They're not really my idyllic conversation."

Riley smirked, "Well, knowing you, I'd say your 'idyllic conversation' is right out there."

Tristan's brow furrowed in confusion. But as his eyes followed Riley's finger, comprehension dawned as he spotted Rory Gilmore situated on the stone bench in Chilton's courtyard, a book in one hand, a sandwich in the other.

Riley grinned, "Dude, you're not gonna get a better chance than this one."

Tristan drew in a deep breath, gathering his wits. Straightening his jacket and adjusting his cap, he nodded. "You're right. I'll be right back."

Riley chuckled, urging him forward with a light shove, "Take your time."

- - -

"How quaint, she's reading again."

Rory paused at the comment, her eyes never left the page as the deep voice permeated her senses. This time, however, the statement was not tinged with condescension as it had the first time it was uttered. A gentle teasing was veiled in the familiar voice, almost one of tender fondness.

"That would have been a good line if you hadn't already used it."

A light chuckle rumbled from Tristan's throat as he smiled, "So you _do_ remember. I'm touched and maybe even flattered."

Rory snorted, "You shouldn't be. If I recall that day, you managed to insult me, my boyfriend, and my taste in guys all in one setting."

"Well, to be fair, you did run out on me after we kissed and proclaimed in a rather loud voice, that I am without a doubt certain the whole courtyard heard, that you hated me." Tristan grinned, "Please, stop the nostalgia. I just might revert back to that Tristan."

Rory finally lifted her gaze from her book to stare into Tristan's lively sapphire eyes, "Wouldn't that insinuate that you've changed?"

A playful smirk tilted his mouth, "Maybe I have." Gesturing to the empty spot beside her, Tristan met her eyes.

"May I?"

Slightly shocked by his admission, Rory nodded. As Tristan straddled the stone bench, he removed his cap, placing it between his legs.

"What are you reading?"

Rory showed him the cover, "_Cyrano deBergerac_."

Tristan nodded, "Ah, excellent choice. That's a really good play."

Rory's eyes flicked his way, shining with surprise, "You've read it?"

Tristan leaned forward, the words tumbling from his lips in a husky whisper, "'Love, I love beyond breath, beyond reason, beyond love's own power of loving. Your name is like a golden bell hung in my heart, and when I think of you, I tremble and the bell swings and rings.'"

At Rory's awestruck look, Tristan chuckled, "If you didn't catch onto that, yeah, I have. Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ know how to read and have a deep appreciation for good literature."

"Could've fooled me with the permanent drool stain on your English desk." Rory retorted.

Tristan grinned, "Ah, I can't really contest what is true. But that was when they were trying to teach me books. Understanding and appreciating literature is something that shouldn't be taught. Forcing symbolism and themes down a student's throat won't make the person absorb the book like it should be. It'll just cause distaste for reading because it's mandating someone to understand material they might not particularly care about other than it'll give them an 'A.'"

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "That's an interesting theory."

Tristan nodded in agreement, "Well, Riley is the analytical one of us two. In his years of working the system, he has developed a rather potent distaste for the present state of education. That was one of his more memorable rants. And it makes sense. He learns differently, not so much gathering information as absorbing, picking apart every flaw, excavating every crevice of whatever we're taught. That's kind of why I'm projected to be the top of our class. I learn and move on. Riley digests, delving even deeper."

Rory smiled at the affection veiled in his deep voice, "You two must be close."

Tristan shrugged, stating simply, "He's my best friend. He gave me my biggest shot of reality." Glancing at the girl across from him, Tristan nudged her gently.

"So how've you been?"

Rory shrugged, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Uh, well. Chilton's not so much of a hell anymore."

Tristan snorted with derision, "Oh, I seriously beg to differ."

Rory shot him a questioning glance, "That's slightly weird coming from the school's king."

Tristan rubbed a hand through his shaved head, "And that's easy to say coming from a girl who doesn't hide behind a façade." Tristan responded, sighing heavily.

"I had to cower behind this image everyone associated me with: the rich playboy, reveling in the rebellion without a cause. And I admit, I liked it and played up to it. But when I got out to North Carolina, I didn't have to mask myself behind that fascia anymore. I could be me, and it was liberating." Tristan shook his head.

"This might seem weird, but here, I had no rules, no limitations. I could get away with anything as long as it didn't tarnish my father's sterling image. Hence the endless parties, the girls, the mischief." Tristan glanced away.

"But out in North Carolina, there are infinite amounts of rules. And you have to abide by them. I couldn't test the boundaries at school, you know, see how far I could go. Because screwing up there…there's no Plan B."

Tristan shrugged, "I don't know, I guess I liked the structure and unity of every thing. I had wake up at a certain time, be at class at a certain time. I mean, you spend so much time with your company that they're like your family. At home, it didn't matter what I did or where I went, my parents couldn't care less. There, I'm not Tristan Janlan Dugrey, Gregory Dugrey's worthless son who got himself shipped off to military school. I'm Lieutenant Colonel TJ Dugrey, the Executive Officer for his battalion and prospective valedictorian."

Tristan glanced up into Rory's eyes, "There, I'm worth something. I accomplished something on my own, without my parents' names or money or prestige backing me and providing this looming shadow of stature and standing. _I_ did it. Now, I can be proud of something I've done."

Tristan let out a rueful chuckle, "But, hell, who cares out here? My father sure doesn't. All he cares about is I don't get into the trouble I did here. Wouldn't want that leaking out to Hartford's social circle…"

Rory examined the boy in front of her, so different from the one who had left Chilton's halls with a smirk on his face and a brazen contempt for rules. The only smirk she had seen grace his countenance was one of playful nostalgia rather than the one he adopted whenever spewing some lewd innuendo. Tristan had actually smiled, the simple gesture softening the hardened lines of his face. Against her better judgment, Tristan Dugrey was slowly beginning to amaze her. She glanced down at the many medals adorned on Tristan's chest and the tag on his breast, signifying his rank and billet. As he played with the cap between his legs, Rory continued to study him. Was this really Tristan Dugrey? Because if it was, all her perceptions about him had just been shot to hell.

- - -

Riley leaned against the windowsill, observing Tristan and Rory conversing. A small smile decorated his features as he saw Rory break into laughter at a comment Tristan made.

"You know, it's considered rude to spy."

Riley laughed, straightening to face Alexandra Dugrey. The younger Dugrey surveyed him with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed as she gazed up into his eyes.

"Yeah, well, as the person who gave him the shove in the right direction as well as sending her all his letters, I reserve the right to spy."

Alex sat down on top of the windowsill, appraising Riley, intrigue glinting in her brilliant azure eyes.

"Why are you so adamant about getting them together?"

Riley shrugged, "Because he deserves it. He could have screwed it all when he came to Amherst and shied back into a self-pitying ball of deprecation. Believe me, being at Amherst for almost six years, you see people deal in different ways. That way is the most common. He could have stayed the arrogant jackwad he was, but he didn't. Tristan took it upon himself to change."

The younger Dugrey pondered for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, he does seem different. He's not the cocky SOB he once was. He seems more perceptive, more appreciative."

Riley grinned, "Exactly. TJ – Tristan – has never had to work for anything. It was all handed to him, and that includes girls. He's never had a meaningful relationship in his life or cared about a girl enough to pursue one…until Rory Gilmore stumbles into this hellhole he calls 'Chilton.' He finally finds a girl he honestly could care about, and TJ, still being the undeserving jackass he was, can't get his head out of his ass to show her. So he reverts to third grade tactics of teasing and mockery." Riley glanced out at his best friend, engaged in a lively conversation with Rory.

"He has changed, and he owes it to himself to get a chance at real love."

Alex tilted her head at the tall boy, "You sound like you know something about all this? Is experience talking?"

Riley glanced down, a remorseful glint adorning his clear gray eyes, "No. I've never had anyone show me the love Tristan is capable of showing Rory. Not even in my family. The one person who did died a while ago…But I guess you could say the lack of said emotion has made me more perceptive to the need of it."

Alex reached out, grasping his hand. Riley's eyes drifted up to hers, mesmerized by the endless depths of blue. Alex squeezed his hand gently.

"I'm sorry."

Riley let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head wryly, "Yeah, me too."

"So you're not from here, are you?"

Riley situated himself down beside her, shaking his head in the negative, "Nope. I'm from California."

Alex shifted, gazing upon him inquisitively, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get into military school?"

Riley smirked, "Similarly to your brother."

Alex cocked an eyebrow, "You followed two dimwits and broke into a safe?"

Riley chuckled, "No. I meant the stealing part. I stole a car."

Alex giggled, "How very _OC_ of you."

Riley wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Please. That was a knock to any car thief's prowess. I did it with a bit more finesse. Besides, it was a dare."

Alex rolled her eyes, "Really?"

Riley shrugged, "Yeah. I stole a Beamer and had to re-park it somewhere interesting. The local burger place was remodeling so I settled it on top of the roof using the crane they had there. I got caught and it was either juvie or straighten me out. I chose the lesser of two evils."

Alex laughed, "Turned out not to be such an evil after all."

Riley grinned his roguish grin, "Nope. Hardly so…"

Alex smiled at his handsome face. Placing a hand on his arm, she turned his stare to hers, "Well, I'm glad you chose military school."

Riley's grin widened, "Yeah, well. Unluckily for me, I had to be the first person TJ met."

Alex smirked, "Try having him be the first person you see when you're popped into the world."

Riley raised his hands in surrender, "Yeah, you've got me beat."

- - -

Rory narrowed her eyes at Tristan's self-satisfied grin, "No way. I don't believe you."

Tristan placed his hands on his breast, "Gilmore, I'm hurt that you'd believe I'd lie to you. It's true! Ask Riley if you don't believe me."

Rory snorted, "Think about what you've just told me, Tristan! You're trying to get me to believe that you and Riley literally glued all your chemistry teacher's things to his desk, and the response was a laugh."

Tristan nodded, "Yes! The commandant, who is like the headmaster at Amherst, loves us. He thought it was hilarious."

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "I thought you were reformed."

Tristan grinned, "I am. It was Riley's idea. Besides, it was a harmless prank, and even Sergeant Caulfield, after he combusted and gave us mess duty for a week, thought it was ingenious."

Rory smiled, "You know, if you would only use your powers for good, the world would be a better place…"

Tristan laughed, "Or better secured with super glue."

Rory laughed with him. Raising her eyes, she met his dazzling sapphire gaze. A small smile softened his features at her delight, and Rory found herself caught up in his tender expression. Dean had always gazed upon her with adoration, but never the intense passion at which Tristan's brilliant eyes did right now. Their eyes locked, and Tristan scooted closer to her. Tentatively, he leaned in. Rory closed her eyes, almost shaking with anticipation with their kiss. It was like déjà vu as time reverted back to a piano bench and a deserted music room. All thoughts of her current situation with Dean flew out of her head. She wanted this, as wrong as it was, as guilty as she knew she would feel. Millimeters until their lips brushed, the bell sounded, startling Rory from the moment. Hurriedly glancing at her watch, she shot up from the bench, quickly gathering her things. Tristan stood, his steady eyes watching her with confusion.

"Oh crap, I completely lost track of the time. I still have to get my books, and Higgins' class is all the way on the other side of the building…" Rory paused, feeling Tristan's unwavering gaze focused on her. He came to stand beside her, placing his cap on his head.

"I've got to get going anyway. Do you need me to walk with you? You know, in case you're late and you need an explanation?"

Rory shook her head, tucking a strand of wayward hair "Uhm, no. Thanks, though. I'll be okay."

Raising a nervous glance up through his eyelashes, Tristan shifted, "Look, my parents are holding this welcome back thing for me and Riley. I know your grandparents are going, and I was hoping I'd maybe coerce you attend."

Rory nodded shyly, "Well, you'll be pleased to know coercion is not necessary."

Tristan mock pouted, "Aw, shucks, and here I was hoping to unveil my impressive persuasive skills."

Rory laughed, "Well, my grandmother could probably rival you in that domain. She roped me and my mom into coming. It's kind of in lieu of our usual Friday night dinner. I'll definitely be there under the corollary of bearing the unsightly brunt of the notorious wrath of Emily Gilmore."

Tristan chuckled, "Heard it sucks to be on the receiving end of those wraths..." His eyes drifting down to focus on hers, Tristan smiled, "That's great. I guess I'll see you there." Touching two fingers to his forehead in a small salute, he ventured back to the main building, his strides languid and unhurried.

"Tristan!"

Turning back, he spotted Rory staring at him, her arms clutching her books, "I…I never did hate you."

Tristan paused, his steady blue gaze drifting up to meet her tentatively searching one. She never had the ability to veil her emotions like the means he had perfected over the years of distant nonchalance. All this time, and she still had that innocence devoid of the jaded attribute of late adolescence. Slowly, his lazy smile spread across his features as he nodded his comprehension, "Thanks, Rory. That means a lot."

As his broad back disappeared into the building, Rory could only gaze after him. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh of frustration. Tristan Dugrey was not supposed to be reformed. He was supposed to be the cocky, antagonistic, arrogant, irritating son of a bitch he was when he left. He was not supposed to be charming, sweet, funny, or even hotter than before. And she was not supposed to like it. Oh, hell…

_And cut! So there you are, an almost-kiss, and a promise of another run-in. I know the whole quiz thing seems a bit unneccessary, but it's basically to build a doubt in Rory about what she knows about Tristan andwhat she's seeing now. The next chapter will have some excellent tension with Dean and Tristan as the former realizes the latter is back in town. Lorelai gives some motherly advice and Luke finally puts a face to the name of Rory's tormentor. Let's just say some interesting conversation with clandestine threats occur. And what will Jess think of this new development of a handsome stranger with obvious history with Rory? Hm…who knows unless you stay tuned…?_

_Roxy_


	3. So Fall Back On

**Disclaimer: **_I owneth nothing-ith_

_Wow, absolutely loving the feedback coming this way. You readers are excellent. As a note, this story is not set completely in the Chilton universe. The meat of this story is actually set in present-day Season 6. These Chilton days are more introduction and premise, establishing the Rory/Tristan dynamic and setting concepts that are essential to the plot and story. So basically after two or so chapters, I will be jumping to Rory's graduation and onto Yale. I hope that doesn't confuse anyone. Let me know if it does…_

_And onward!_

**Chapter 3**

_So Fall Back On All of Your Premonitions_

Riley glanced at his best friend as the Porsche pulled away from Chilton. Tristan's face was drawn in a pensive expression, his bright blue eyes focused on the road in front of them.

"Hey, TJ, are you okay?"

A slow, languid smile spread across Tristan's face as he turned towards his friend, "I'm starved. Are you?" Grinning, Tristan concentrated his attention back on the road.

"Let's get some coffee."

Riley's brow furrowed in confusion, taken aback by Tristan's random departure from his question. Shifting in his seat, Riley managed to nod, unsure of the state of Tristan's sense.

"Okay…"

- - -

Riley gazed up at the small sign hanging innocently from the roof, frowning dubiously. His fingers drumming against the pad in his grasp, Riley removed the ballpoint pen from between his teeth, and turning to Tristan, he pointed up at the swinging sign.

"Dude, you do know that sign says 'hardware' on it, right?"

Tristan grinned, "Yeah, I do."

"So why would we go into a hardware store if you want food? I have heard that wood chippings are chock-full with fiber but that doesn't seem particularly appetizing at the moment…"

Tristan chuckled, "It's not a hardware store."

Riley shook his head, his eyes flicking from the blonde to the sign. Sighing in defeat, Riley shrugged and relented, following Tristan into the establishment, "I seriously think this Connecticut air is making you lose it. Or have I just been oblivious to your obvious insanity?"

Tristan laughed, "Shut up and come on."

From across the street, a tall, thin boy, his brown hair flopping onto his forehead, glared at the expensive car and the boy who emerged from the depths, laughing with his friend exiting from the other side. Stacking melons on the display in front of the store, the boy allowed his dark gaze to remain fixated on the broad back as it disappeared into Luke's diner. Hearing the summon from inside the market, he reluctantly headed back into the store, not before shooting a suspicious leer over his shoulder at the pair entering Luke's.

As the bell over the door jingled, announcing their entrance, the entire diner rotated to face their newest occupants. Riley halted for a moment, bewildered at the instantaneous awareness of their presence. Unfazed, Tristan strode purposefully to the counter, plopping himself down on a stool while Riley settled down beside him, slightly unnerved with all the attention.

"Uh, doesn't this kind of bother you?"

Amused, Tristan shook his head, removing his cap, "It did the first time. But I got used to it."

"You've been here before?"

Poring over a menu, Tristan nodded absently as around them, the patrons whispered to each other, "Yeah, I had to go here to work on a project with Rory. This is one of the places she mentioned to get food."

Riley's gaze snapped to his best friend, "Wait. Rory lives here?"

Still preoccupied with the menu choices, Tristan's head bobbed up and down slightly, "Yeah."

"What do you want?"

Lifting his eyes from the menu, Tristan glanced up at the scruffy man clad in flannel and a backwards baseball cap glowering down at them, "Hamburger, everything on it, fries, and a coffee."

With a curt nod, the man turned to Riley, "And you?"

"The same." Diverting his attention to his friend, Riley set his hat down, "Okay, so refresh my memory once more. Rory lives here, you've been here before, and we're here now."

Tristan glanced at his best friend, "Uh, yeah…what's your point?"

Riley rolled his eyes, "Tristan, I seriously doubt stalking is gonna warrant you some brownie points with this girl, not to mention it is illegal in all fifty states."

Tristan chuckled, "Geez, Beau, so suspicious. So it's completely unfathomable that I'm here simply because I like the food and town?"

Riley's head bobbed up and down emphatically, "Uh, yes."

Tristan frowned, "Ouch. I don't even get the benefit of the doubt?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "Do I really need to answer?" At the question, Tristan shook his head, a sly smile spreading across his face. As the plate of heaping food slid into his line of vision, Tristan glanced up at the gruff man glowering down at them.

"Thanks."

The head, covered by the baseball cap, nodded shortly, "No problem. You two from the Army or something?"

Tristan shook his head, "No, military school."

The dark eyes narrowed, "I've seen you before."

Tristan nodded, "Uh, yeah. I used to go to Chilton with Rory Gilmore."

"You're that rich prick, aren't you…with some medieval name?" The relentless eyes focused onto his, radiating with an inquisitive glint.

Tristan hesitated before slowly allowing his head to bob up and down, "Well, I don't know about being a prick anymore, military school has little tolerance for who I used to be, but as for the medieval name, I can't really deny that." Tristan stuck his hand out.

"Tristan Dugrey, sir."

The diner man shook his hand with a brisk pump, eyeing the boy across from him with a suspicious light, "Luke Danes. You the kid who got into a fight with Dean?"

Tristan quirked a dry smile, "Guilty."

"I don't like the punk, either. You can't be all that bad." Tristan grinned his agreement.

Luke turned his stern face to Tristan, his dark eyes boring into the younger man's lighter ones, "But I also hear you've tortured the girl I consider to be like a daughter. Not too smart." Tristan averted his stare, glancing down at his plate in slight shame. Luke studied the boy in front of him, sizing the young man up.

"I'm keeping an eye on you, kid. Make this easy on you and me, and try not to cause too much chaos around here. Lord knows these people don't need anymore gossip to satisfy their lives."

Tristan nodded, shooting a repentant look to the diner owner. Luke swiveled his head to glare at Riley who shied slightly away from the penetrating stare.

"And dare I ask who you are?"

Riley smirked, "Well, I haven't formally met Rory, so rest assured I haven't tortured her. As for Tristan, I have the misfortune of being his best friend."

Luke grunted, "My sympathies." Refilling their drinks he rotated, "Call me if you need anything else." Remembering something, he turned back.

"And I'm sure you know Rory and her mother, Lorelai, are frequent around this place. Don't stir up anything you know that will call for the two of you being thrown out of here by your collars."

Tristan and Riley snapped simultaneous salutes to the diner owner as they returned their attention back to their meals. Riley sighed, sending a furtive glance at his best friend.

"Can I just say being your best friend is proving to be slightly detrimental to my health?"

- - -

Lorelai Gilmore glanced at her daughter as she sat in the passenger seat of their Jeep. Rory's attractive face was anywhere but in the compact quarters they shared, her brow furrowed in deep contemplation. Nudging her with an elbow, Lorelai shifted her stare back to the road.

"You wanna tell me what's on your mind, babe?"

Rory jerked, almost as if she realized Lorelai's presence, "Huh?"

The elder Gilmore frowned, "You seem a bit preoccupied, hun."

Rory paused before answering, glancing to her mother, "Mom, is it possible that you could have a preconception of someone, only to find it shot to hell?"

Lorelai nodded, "Of course, I have one daily. Just yesterday, this big, gruff man, who could give Luke a run for his money, stormed into the inn, demanding and ranting, and any other –ing you can think about. He was so rude, I swear even Michel couldn't keep up with him. The beds were too small, the meals too heavy, the water too hot. The list went on and on and on, damn near gave me an aneurysm trying to accommodate him. I was so relieved when he left. But when he checked out, he left a humongously big tip…" Lorelai faltered when she spotted the look on Rory's face, "But I guess you're asking seriously without my quippy asides?"

Rory nodded emphatically, her amusement marred by the helpless light to her features. Lorelai sighed, "Babe, with some people, first or even second and third impressions don't give you the entire picture. Everyone has layers within their character that aren't necessarily obvious until you really get to know them outside the norm." Lorelai met her daughter's pensive expression.

"Sometimes you just need time and effort to really see a person for who they are…" Lorelai studied the younger Gilmore, "Why do you ask?"

Rory fidgeted slightly, "Tristan Dugrey came back to Chilton today."

Lorelai frowned, "To stay?"

Shaking her head, Rory glanced down at her hands clinched tightly together, "No. Just for a visit while he's on leave from his military academy." The lines embedded in Rory's forehead deepened.

"He walked into my Government class, and it was like he…changed. I was talking to him, and we actually had a nice conversation…" Rory shook her head, a helpless glint to her features.

"I don't know, Mom. This isn't the same Tristan Dugrey who tormented me and called me 'Mary.' He was - dare I say it? - _nice_." Rory buried her face in her hands.

"I mean, who is the real Tristan here, Mom? Is it the jackwad who teased and mocked me with relentless resolve, or is it this charming, friendly gentleman who offered to walk me to class."

Lorelai smiled, "Is it really that impossible that he might have changed?"

Rory sighed, "I don't know, Mom. I'm not sure anymore."

Pulling into a spot in front of Luke's Lorelai shifted to face Rory, "Babe, you never really gave him a chance two years ago. Yeah, that was granted this kid was a total schmuck, but maybe if you give him another shot, you'll see for yourself who he honestly is. Even if it is an act, sooner or later, it'll slip, and you'll know the truth. But maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Because from my perspective, hun, you're really starting to rethink everything for this guy. Now don't get me wrong, I like Dean, he's a great kid. But in one day, this guy has you reevaluating a lot, and you and I both know, you never know where attraction will strike." Lorelai tilted her head, meeting the identical clear blue eyes mother passed to daughter.

"Does that help, babe?"

Rory nodded, her face twisted into a contemplative frown, "Yeah, I think so, Mom."

Lorelai smiled, affectionately brushing Rory's cheek, "Excellent. Nice to know my mother's parenting skills failed to influence themselves on me…" Exiting the Jeep, Lorelai linked her arm through her daughter's.

"So, my offspring, spew all the juicy details. Don't leave anything out. I wanna know ev-uh-ree-thing." Lorelai drew out the word, skipping along the sidewalk.

"You know, how hot does he look in that uniform, does the lack of hair make his head look small, did you find yourself undressing him with your eyes…?" Lorelai halted abruptly, trailing off. Rory, in the midst of her tale, failed to notice her mother's lack of movement, jerking backward as Lorelai anchored herself to the ground. Yelping, Rory's attention snapped to her mother.

"Mom! It's called walking!"

Lorelai cocked an eyebrow, a sly smirk coasting across her face, "Sorry hun. But I really gotta ask you, do you believe in premonition?"

Rory frowned, "Yeah, why?"

Lorelai pointed through the big glass window of Luke's. Rory followed her mother's finger, and her gaze dragged over to a pair of military uniforms situated at the counter. Her eyes widened, and Lorelai grinned.

"Because if that isn't an omen, I don't know what is…"

- - -

Tristan chuckled into his fries, nodding his head in agreement at Riley's comment. Shrugging, he smirked.

"I denno, Beau. I seriously doubt Sergeant Jackson will appreciate his whole room arrangement rotated ninety degrees…"

Riley grinned with excitement at their latest prank, "But think about it, TJ, you and I have free periods during third. Jackson teaches a class in Sergeant Tompkins' room that period. It would be ingenious…"

Tristan laughed, "Alright, fine. Who else would wanna be in?"

Riley snorted, "No one. Everyone else is treading on thin ice. You and I are the only ones who can attempt it. We have enough clout that even if we are caught, Commandant Mitchell won't do anything. Besides, it's been a while since our last major prank."

Tristan opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out as his eyes caught a familiar whirl of chocolate hair sweeping in through the doors. One eyebrow shot up in amusement as an identical whirl followed, hightailing it straight to the diner counter, proceeding to demand coffee from an insistently defiant Luke.

"LUUUUKE! My elixir of life, if you will…"

"No." The reply was short and terse.

"Blasphemy, Diner Man! How dare you deny me my life's breath?"

"We have this conversation every time you set foot in my diner. In denying you coffee, I waive all responsibility in your early death. Trust me, Lorelai, I'd rather not go through that messy paperwork."

"But I was gonna leave you Gus…"

Luke grunted, "Gus?"

"Our coffee maker."

As Lorelai persisted in her quest to obtain coffee, Luke shook his head, resolutely in the negative. A pout crossed the attractive face, and Tristan looked on in amusement as he could see Luke's steely resolve crumbling as Lorelai's incessant pursuit of her beloved coffee gave the outward appearance of wearing thin on Luke's patience. Tristan differed, seeing the ghost of a smile flicker across Luke's brusque features with each relentless demand. With a final grumble of his patent disapproval, Luke relented, shoving a large mug teeming with the hot beverage into her waiting hands. One fist thrust excitedly in the air, the bundle of energy Tristan could only assume to be Rory's mother gulped eagerly at her elixir.

"SCORE! No one comes between a Gilmore and her coffee!"  
Luke grunted, his eyes shifting to the younger, saner coffee-addict, "I gather I'm assuming correctly that you're willing to indulge, too?"

Tristan directed his gaze back over Riley's shoulder to find Rory Gilmore approaching them, an amused smile tilting her face.

"Luke, that's like asking Shakespeare if he knows what a sonnet is…"

The disgruntled diner man snorted, plunking an equally large cup before Rory, "Before you two keel over from too much caffeine, please allow me the pleasure of saying 'I told you so.'"

Lorelai paused in her consumption of coffee, shooting Luke a mock-incredulous look, "Luke Danes, who thought you could be so malicious…?"

Luke smirked, wiping the counter off, "What's malicious is me voluntarily providing you two with caffeine, thus making me solely responsible for the poor soul who is forced to endure whatever mischief you get into on your caffeinated-high."

Lorelai grinned, sitting straighter on her stool, "I don't cause mischief, Danes, I cause sunshine and butterflies…"

Rory giggled with her mother, sliding into the stool beside her, "Don't mind her, Luke. She's had to suffer through Michel on Male PMS."

Luke smirked, bracing his arms on the counter, "I don't. After over a decade, I just tune her out, nod my head, mumble something back, and give her the coffee."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open in shock, "Luke! I can't believe you just admitted you ignore me!"

Luke cocked an eyebrow at the woman across from him, shrugging defensively, "And you haven't done the same thing to me?" Turning his attention to the younger Gilmore, Luke leaned in conspiratorially.

"I'm sure you noticed your tormentor is here. Want me to throw him out?"

Rory smiled, "No thanks, Luke. He's retracted the horns for the time being."

Luke gave a curt nod of his head, "Well, call if you need some assistance in that area."

Rory hopped down from her stool, "Will do."

"You know, Dugrey, desperation does not become you…"

Tristan smiled inwardly, rotating to face the amused countenance of Rory, "Now what ever would give you the idea that I'm desperate?"

Rory slid into the stool beside him, propping her head on one hand, "The fact that you're here in Stars Hollow. Voluntarily, I might add…"

Tristan waggled his eyebrows, "So I can't just come here for the beautiful view and quaint setting?"

Rory scoffed, "Tristan, the only 'beautiful view' you would willingly travel to see would involve half-naked women and you, the only man."

Riley grinned, nudging Tristan slightly, "Geez, TJ, you're just getting verbally bashed today."

Tristan hefted a dramatic sigh, "Ah, yes, the truth comes out, I suffer from vocal abuse that wreaks havoc on my fragile ego."

Rory and Riley simultaneously snorted, and Riley rolled his eyes in reprove "My ass, TJ…"

Rory nodded her agreement, "I'm surprised your ego fit through Luke's door when backpacks are notorious for getting stuck, and Kirk, occasionally, when he forgets to rotate the current box he's holding…" Tilting her head, she stared at the two boys.

"So why are you here, really?"

Tristan proffered the cup in his grasp, grinning insolently, "The coffee."

Rory's eyes narrowed, "Try again…"

Tristan hefted a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in an exaggerated gesture of relenting, "Alright, I confess…It was because of Riley."

Rory and Riley's gazes snapped concurrently in Tristan's direction, their voices uniting in a inquiry tinged with skepticism from Rory and indignation from Riley.

"What?"

Tristan nodded, "Yeah. You see, Riley's writing a novel, and I thought Stars Hollow would give a good dose of inspiration." Tristan waved a hand, gesturing out the door.

"I mean, just look at the ambiance of it all." His gaze drifting to Riley's clear gray eyes, abound with entertainment, Tristan shot his best friend a pointed look.

"The scenery is just so picturesque. Right, Beau?"

Inwardly, Riley cursed, unwillingly a pawn in Tristan's plight. Unable to deny his friend this luxury of time with the Elizabeth to his Darcy, Riley bit back a grumble and the urge to scowl. Forcing a dashing grin on his face he hoped to be convincing, he hitched a thumb to the door.

"Uh, yeah. I was actually just heading out to that gazebo." Motioning to the pad at his side, Riley placed his hat on his head, backing out of the diner.

"I'll catch you two later."

"Mini Me! I'm getting lonely over here…" Lorelai plopped herself down beside her daughter.

"The point of us going to Luke's was to recap the various activities that transpire when we're apart. Now, although the idea of conversing with myself is entirely amusing, not to mention it would probably annoy Lukie to no end, I'm not particularly interested in having a one-sided dispute with myself over the color of the new drapes in the lobby. Because if I do that, my opinion will not change, nor will it give me another perspective to consider…" Lorelai trailed off at her daughter's meaningful look, her eyes skimming in the direction of Rory's gaze, shifting in a subtle flick. Lorelai cocked her head at the pair of intense sapphire eyes that did not belong to her offspring, rather than to an extremely handsome boy she had not seen or heard about in over a year.

"Oh…hello."

Rory shook her head in exasperation, "Mom, I'm sure you remember Tristan Dugrey."

Tristan offered out a hand, "Pleasure, Ms. Gilmore."

"It's Lorelai." The elder Gilmore studied the boy next to her daughter, "Funny. Rory never mentioned Satan was so hot…"

Amused, Tristan glanced at the younger Gilmore, her eyes squinched shut in embarrassment and her face drawn tight, the cheeks reddened, "Huh. Consequently, Rory never mentioned I was a common topic of conversation in the Gilmore household."

Lorelai smirked, "Oh, but you are, Evil One. Of course, the words 'insufferable' and 'jackass' are the most frequent in those conversations."

Tristan's horrified gaze swiveled to Rory, "Gilmore, such language coming from your mouth!"

Lorelai quirked a cheeky leer, "Actually, those descriptions were courtesy of me."

Tristan grinned, "You may be pleased to notice those words will be exempt from the current description of me. They say I'm reformed."

Rory cut him off, glancing meaningfully at her mother, "Oh that is still to be seen, Bible Boy."

Lorelai whistled inconspicuously, casually sipping her coffee, "I denno, Ror. I'm seeing something right now." Purposefully ignoring her daughter's stare, Lorelai shifted her stare to Tristan.

"So, Evil One, what exactly have you done to my daughter to have her rethink her opinion of you?"

Tristan smiled, sneaking a glance to the younger Gilmore perched between them, "Reined in my jackass characteristics, I guess…"

Lorelai nodded approvingly, "Good answer. Now what are your intentions with my daughter?"

Rory's face contorted in horror, "Mom!"

Lorelai feigned ignorance, her eyes widening innocently, "What? It's a valid question."

"We're working on friendship, but I'll take an attitude devoid of revulsion every time my name is mentioned," Tristan grinned, motioning Luke over. Slipping the flannel-clad man a few dollars, Tristan gestured to the empty coffee cups situated before each Gilmore. Luke cocked an eyebrow, the coffee pot poised over Lorelai's cup.

"You sure about this, kid?"

Tristan nodded, and Luke stared at him dubiously, "You have my respect. Not many people are willing to brave a caffeinated Gilmore. You're taking two on."

Lorelai squealed as the deep brown liquid trickled into her idle cup, "Oooh! Can we keep him, hon? He _willingly_ gives us our darling beverage."

Rory shook her head disgustedly, "Mom, you're supposed to hold him in contempt, not be fond of him."

Tristan pouted, "Aw, and here I was hoping to extend the olive branch." Sighing headily, Tristan dragged her cup back towards him.

"Oh well, I guess I'll have to withdraw the peace offering…"

Rory lunged forward, snatching the cup back, "Now hang on, buster, I wasn't saying anything about _that_…"

Luke glanced to his left as Jess trumped down the stairs in his normal state of disheveled indifference. The dark-haired boy glanced towards Rory, taken aback with the fact she didn't notice his presence, thoroughly engrossed in conversation with the tall, attractive boy beside her, clad in a military uniform. Jess' eyes narrowed slightly as the boy leaned conspiratorially closer to Rory, whispering something in her ear, causing her clear, blue eyes to light up with laughter, her delicate nose wrinkling as she teasingly smacked the boy on the arm. Jess frowned, leaning back against the back counter.

"Who's that?"

Luke shot a look to his nephew, "Tristan Dugrey. He used to go to school with Rory."

"An ex?"

Luke cocked an eyebrow in interest at his nephew's subtle questioning, "No. Old tormentor, new friend."

Jess nodded in concurrence, "Uh huh…" As Rory's genuine smile bloomed on her face, Jess couldn't help the overwhelming jealousy from seeping into his consciousness.

"I don't like him."

Luke barked out a short laugh, "Deal with it. She does."

"And you?"

Luke shrugged, "He's not as bad as Dean. Almost got into a fight with that punk. And he's willing to take on two Gilmores hyped on coffee…I'll tolerate him, I guess."

Jess fell silent, studying the pair as the effortless repartee flowed, coursing with chemistry. He had never seen anyone make her respond the way this kid was, not even Dean. There was something there, and Jess wasn't quite sure if he was in favor of this new development.

- - -

A corner of Tristan's mouth quirked upward, catching Rory's teasing glance, shooting a quick retort her way, which she rapidly reciprocated. Unbeknownst to either teenager, Lorelai observed the banter with an interested glint shining in her eyes. Whether her daughter was aware of it or not, and Lorelai seriously suspected the latter, she was slowly finding herself charmed by this new Tristan Dugrey. During this whole exchange, Lorelai was sure the thought of Rory's boyfriend was the furthest thing from her daughter's mind. There was something there, lurking between the two. Something that she hadn't seen between Dean and Rory, and Lorelai couldn't help but wonder the future of this tentative friendship and whether it would bloom into something more. Perhaps something more permanent. Although she liked Dean, he was a really sweet kid, Lorelai knew it was wishful thinking to believe he and Rory would be together forever. But with Tristan…well, Lorelai supposed they would just have to wait and see, but from where she was sitting, something _was_ there.

- - -

Riley leaned back against the gazebo steps, the pages of his notebook flapping in the indolently gusting breeze. All around him, Stars Hollow teemed with activity and life. The town was so alive, so vivacious, so unabashedly quirky. Dipping his head down, he penned an observation, absorbing this new culture around him. Just a few seconds before, a strange man asked his opinion on crunchy or creamy peanut butter, wondering if either would be beneficial to the six-pack abs he was attempting to obtain, in a dry and completely serious voice. To his left, a plump elderly lady absently thumped a stick against the worn wood that millions of dancers had pirouetted and leaped across, idly bellowing out instructions to a group of slightly baffled seven year-olds. A bit beyond the studio, a portly elderly man with a stern face, rapidly turning an interesting shade of puce, irately waved a plum that apparently meandered astray to the peach section, berating the intimidated young man who unsuspectingly demolished the precision of the fruit display arrangement. To his right, Riley, despite his slightly peeved state, couldn't help but smile at the easy conversation Tristan, Rory, and Lorelai were having. And straight ahead…Riley frowned as his vision was obscured by a shadowy figure. Tilting his head up, he gazed into the angry face of a tall, lanky boy. His brown hair drooped ungainly onto his forehead as the dark brown eyes glared down at him. Riley cocked his head.

"Uh, dude, do you mind moving a bit to the left? You're kinda blocking my sun here."

The hulking figure stayed determinedly before Riley's vision the scowl on his face contorting his features, "What are you doing here?"

Slightly confused at the hostility behind the question, Riley shrugged, "Like here in general? Or is there some specific region in which you would like a reason?"

"I mean here, Stars Hollow, with _him_."

Riley followed the aggravated jab of the boy's finger, his eyes shifting to the window of Luke's diner where Tristan lounged back on the stool.

"Well, considering I'm Riley, his best friend, I think it would be safe to say we spend a good amount of time together. I'm assuming you're referring to TJ?"

"Tristan, Dristan, whatever his name is." Dean snarled, his hair wilting onto his forehead.

Riley shook his head in bemusement, "Okay, first of all, who are you? And why would you care?"

A scowl flickered across the boy's features, "I'm Dean, Rory's boyfriend."

Riley smirked, "The bag boy?"

Dean glared at the description, "Yeah. Now I ask again, what are you doing here?"

Frowning at the growl he had surely provoked, Riley placed an insolent grin on his face. Prior to hearing Tristan's tales of Dean, sardonically referred to as Bag Boy and the Beanstalk, Riley wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. But, considering the situation, all pretenses of an affable approach flew out the window. An expression of audacity on his face, Riley cocked an eyebrow.

"Wow, man, thy name be 'Ignorance.'" Riley propped his elbow on a knee, pointing to the notebook clutched in his grasp.

"Pad."

Lifting his left hand up, Riley brandished the ballpoint pen held captive between his forefinger and his thumb, "Pen."

Weighing the two items in his hands, Riley threw a cheeky smirk onto his face, "Given that information, wouldn't that infer that I'm writing?"

Dean lunged forward, grabbing Riley by the collars of his uniform, "Look, just answer the question."

Riley's eyes steeled, the gray shadowing over to a tough sheen. Calmly, he removed Dean's hands from his person, straightening to his full height. For the first time in his life, Dean found himself unable to tower over his opponent as Riley stood an inch and a half over him.

"You honestly think you can intimidate me, Beanstalk?" Riley scoffed, taking in Dean's lanky build, "Please, I've taken infinately worse than you. So do yourself a favor and back off. TJ and I aren't here for anything but the food, so rest your suspicious heart before it leads to something unfavorable to your health."

Dean squared up to Riley, "Is that a threat?"

Riley smirked, "Oooh, Beanie, you're a quick one. That come from bagging groceries?"

- - -

Tristan halted mid-laugh, gazing out the window. Aware of his abrupt departure from mirth, Rory frowned, "Tristan?"

Tristan groaned as Rory followed his gaze to find Dean attempting to loom over Riley, an aggressive shine to his features. The taller boy only smirked back, the expression apparently exasperating Dean to no end.

"Dammit, the stupid idiot is going to get himself killed…"

Rory's eyes widened, "Dean would never hurt anyone."

Tristan scoffed, "Wrong context, Gilmore. I wasn't referring to him. _Dean's_ gonna get himself killed. Rule number one: don't antagonize Beau with no reason, which I have no doubt your Beanstalk has done. Riley Beaumont is the unheralded champion of the academy's hand-to-hand combat class, and he is able to do some serious damage to your precious Dean." Tristan leaped down from his seat.

"I gotta go see if I can diffuse the situation."

Rory hopped off her own stool, following him, "Tristan, given your history with Dean, I seriously doubt you're diffusing anything."

- - -

Riley's smirk only widened as Dean snarled in response to his last quip. Riley could see the thin bag boy resisting the urge to resort to physical means, and he held back laughter.

"What's going on here?"

Riley shifted, grinning at Tristan who tentatively approached the pair with Rory right behind him. Tilting his head, feigning jollity, Riley rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Ah, Rory, TJ, excellent of you to join us. It seems, Miss Gilmore, that I have had the wonderful opportunity to meet your charming boyfriend who has graciously welcomed me to your fine town." Smirking at the furious expression on Dean's face, Riley shook his head ruefully.

"But, I must say if this rude and cold manner is how you greet guests, I'd hate to see an antagonistic approach."

Rory's eyes snapped to Dean's face, the boy possessing enough grace to look slightly ashamed, "Dean, what were you doing?"

The tall teen backed up, his expression conveying innocence. "Nothing!" came the protest, "I was asking what he was doing here."

Rory shook her head, "Like he needs an excuse?"

Dean shrugged, "No." Hitching a thumb in Tristan's direction, a scowl contorting his features, Dean growled.

"But _he_ does."

Tristan smirked, his hands held aloft in surrender, "Hey, I have no ulterior motives. I came for the coffee…"

Dean spat, gazing upon the familiar face with contempt, "Like hell, Accountant. Nothing's ever straight up with you."

Tristan chuckled, relishing in the situation, "Whoa there, Bag Boy, a bit early to be generalizing me. Especially when you don't know me."

Dean advanced on Tristan, fury implemented on his face, "I know enough."

Attempting to alleviate the situation, Rory planted herself between the two men, bracing her hands on Dean's chest, "Stop, Dean. They're here because I invited them."

Previously fixated on Tristan, Dean's eyes flickered down to Rory's, alight with astonishment, "You what?"

Straightening, Rory reiterated her statement firmly, "I invited him. He came by Chilton this morning, and I told him to come down here so we could catch up."

Dean scowled, "And why would you do such a thing?"

Rory took in a deep breath, willing herself allow the words to tumble from her lips, knowing what reaction it would prompt from her boyfriend, "Because we're friends."

At the simple declaration, Tristan's gaze snapped to the back of Rory's head, his mouth falling open to gape slightly in astonishment. His breath caught in his throat, and his brow furrowing, Tristan felt a poignant emotion flutter through his body. She took the blame for his presence, even when she didn't have to, and she just admitted they were friends. No one had ever done such a thing for him aside from Riley. Raising his eyes to his best friend, Tristan spotted the pleased smile skating across Riley's face, and he turned his attention back to Rory.

Dean frowned, shaking his head as if he had heard her incorrectly, "You're friends?"

"We're friends." Rory affirmed, gazing defiantly back up at Dean. He chuckled.

"Wow. So he finally got to you?"

Rory frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Dean averted his gaze in annoyance, "Please, Rory. He's after the same thing he was a year ago: to get in your pants."

"No he isn't, Dean. He's changed."

Dean scoffed derisively, "Yeah, and Luke likes me. God, Rory, you're so naïve. Don't you see what's happening?"

Tristan's resolve snapped, and he stepped between the couple, "Alright, man, that's enough."

Dean shoved Tristan back, glaring down at the other boy, "Stay out of it, _Dristan_."

Tristan smirked, "All these years and that wit of yours is still as lackluster as ever. I'm astonished you haven't found the brain power to refine it. Conversations with you must be interesting." Glancing towards Rory, he cocked an eyebrow.

"You heard her, Bag Boy, we're friends. And as a friend speaking, you're not gonna talk to her like that ever again."

Dean snorted, "Or you'll do what?"

Tristan only smiled in reply, "Use that pea brain of yours and figure it out."

The fine string holding Dean's composure abruptly snapped as he advanced on Tristan, grabbing him by the collar. Drawing his fist back, Dean threw out a ferocious punch. Ducking under the blow, Tristan sidestepped, whipping his right fist across his body, striking Dean squarely on the nose and mouth. Blood pouring from the wound, Dean tumbled backward in an ungainly heap at Riley's feet. Leaning down, a smirk tingeing his features, Riley sneered into Dean's bloodied face.

"Ding, ding, ding. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a knockout…"

Rory sighed, glancing down at her boyfriend, "That's right, Dean, Tristan and I are friends. I really want you to accept that, but if you're gonna ask me to choose, I refuse to. I shouldn't have to. So call me when you're ready to act mature." Whirling, she led Tristan and Riley back to Luke's. The trio smirked as chairs scraped while their spectators scrambled back into their seats, maintaining inconspicuous appearances. Plopping down on the counter stools, Lorelai applauded.

"Wow, guys, excellent show you put on." Her eyes reverting to Tristan, Lorelai met his bright blue gaze directly, catching the veiled emotions behind his beautiful eyes.

"I'm not saying I condone violence, but I'm guessing you were defending Rory."

Tristan nodded, his eyes downcast, "Uh, yeah. Funny how roles reverse."

Luke came out from the store room, patting Tristan on the back as he refilled drinks, "Nice right hook."

Lorelai's eyes lit up, "Oooh! You've just received the Luke Danes Stamp of Approval. Now we can really keep you!"

Tristan chuckled, "I'm truly honored." Glancing up at the clock, he sighed, "We better get going. My mom is expecting us back for her party." Lifting a hopeful gaze, he glanced at the Gilmore girls, "I'll see you two there?"

Lorelai hefted a sigh, "Unfortunately due to the irreversible clout of Emily Gilmore."

Tristan nodded as he backed out the door. Riley followed, tipping his cap to the girls, "Nice to meet you both."

As Tristan exited, his eyes drifted up to lock onto a pair of light blue spheres heavy with contemplation. In a subtle and meaningful gesture, he touched two fingers to the brim of his cap, almost imperceptibly inclining his head in a short bow. Rory's eyes stayed on the Porsche long after its motor signaled the departure. Dropping her head down, she pondered about what had just transpired. She had no idea what had overcome her, but she had felt this palpable urge to defend Tristan to Dean. It was true, she supposed. They were friends, and she could argue that she had changed. Rory yanked herself from her contemplation as she felt a slight nudge to her arm.

"C'mon, sweets. Let's get going. We, too, have to primp ourselves for the Dugrey party."

Rory nodded, following her mother out. Her eyes drifting to the Dooses' Market where Dean sulked as he stacked cans, Rory sighed. Tristan Dugrey was back in her life, and, true to form, he was turning her neat and orderly world as she now knew it inside out and upside down. Oh, hell…

_And there you go! Dean gets a pop in the beak, Jess is not pleased, and Luke apparently is tolerant of this new boy. Next we have a party at the Dugreys featuring Tristan and Rory coming closer, a hint to a bond that will play a big part in future chapters between Riley and Alex, and Paris finds herself intrigued to Tristan's best friend…Hmmm, sense an interesting future, I do. So I hope you stay tuned, and I'd be rather obliged if you leave some feedback to help me out or boost my ego, whichever you prefer. _

_Roxy_


	4. Something Tells Me

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything…except Riley and Alex…_

_Wow, consider my ego completely boosted! I absolutely love the feedback I am getting from this story. Talk about encouragement…Anyway, I'm glad you all liked the last chapter. Dean is such a putz and I am an avid Tristan fan. Gotta love those rich bad boys. Plus, Chad Michael Murray is flippin' gorgeous. Now, I like Logan, but Tristan was the original and the best. Anyway, here's another chapter, and get ready for some anti-Dean/Rory action!_

_Pay attention to details, you never know what might be important for the future, as minute and insignificant as it may seem…_

**Chapter 4**

_Something Tells Me It's Gonna Take Patience_

Tristan sat on his bed, his elbows braced on his knees, playing with the cap between his hands. The day's events crashed onto his psyche in a whirl of flashbacks. Idly, he flexed his right hand, slightly sore from coming into contact with Dean's face with a split up the middle knuckle where one of the bag boy's teeth cut. But he could barely feel the pain. Not after what Rory Gilmore had said. Not after what it made him feel.

Riley's pale gray eyes gazed down upon his friend, noticeably silent since they had gotten back from Stars Hollow. He recognized the expression gracing Tristan's chiseled features; his best friend was deep in contemplation, no doubt sorting out the emotions running rampant through his conscious mentality. Dragging Tristan's desk chair to the edge of the bed, Riley straddled the chair, resting his elbows on the back.

"What's on your mind, TJ?"

Tristan jerked slightly, as though he had just realized Riley's presence. Diverting his eyes to the carpet beneath his feet, Tristan shook his head, almost incredulously.

"She defended me, Beau." Tristan chuckled in disbelief, "She called me her friend…"

Riley plopped his chin onto crossed arms supported on the back of the chair, "You've never really had a friend like her, have you?"

Tristan straightened, running his hands up and down his pant legs, "Correction. Friend, period. I've never had a girl friend…I mean, a friend who's a girl. You know, a female friend..." Tristan's face contorted at his logic.

Riley held out a hand, steadying his friend, "Easy there, Dugrey. Don't pop a vein trying to sort that one out. I get it."

Tristan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "She didn't have to do what she did, Beau. It would have saved her from a fight with Bag Boy. Why did she do it?"

Riley grinned, shrugging, "Dude, if I had the ability to comprehend the female mind, I wouldn't be spending all my time with you. I can't tell you why she did it, I hardly understand it myself. The only explanation I _can_ give you is that's simply what friends do, TJ. They have your back. Granted, it's not exactly the same thing with a female friend. I seriously doubt she'll be predisposed to punching someone out like I would, but that's what happens. Maybe she cares."

Tristan scoffed lightly, "I can only hope, right?"

"I think it extends past hope, TJ…"

Tristan digested Riley's words, silently staring at his best friend. The last thing that perished was hope, and that was really all he had concerning the relationship he and Rory shared. Tristan exhaled deeply. Hope was all he possessed. The hope that one day, Rory would take that second glance, and he was okay with that. He had established a relationship. The only thing left was to allow it to bloom. As his mind consented with that fact, the door to his bedroom opened gently to reveal the immaculate form of his mother, and Olivia Dugrey smiled down at her son.

"Tristan, Riley, the guests are here. It's time to make your entrance." Pausing, she fixed Tristan's collar, smoothing down the fabric.

"Honey, you look so handsome. Your father and I are so proud of you."

Tristan rose from his place on the bed, placing his cap on his head, "Thanks, Mom." He mumbled, nodding to his mother in gratitude. As Olivia led them out, he muttered under his breath to Riley behind him.

"I feel like a damn show dog. Come, Tristan. Speak, Tristan. Sit, Tristan."

"Play dead, Tristan." Riley joked warranting a sharp sock to the arm.

The pair halted at the head of the stairs, bolt upright at attention in accordance to their act. Turning sharply on their heels, the duo slowly descended the stairs to join the guests below. Immediately, Gregory and Olivia Dugrey accosted the two teenagers, parading them around to greet each one of their guests. Tristan played the part of the reformed son well, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with an air of noble detachment. The small talk flowed easily from his lips as he charmed and entertained the legions of socialites gathered to verify his transformation. Tristan Dugrey eased effortlessly into the façade of the charming society boy, and he hated every second of it.

- - -

The night dragged on as Riley leaned back against the bar counter, trying desperately to keep the bored expression off of his face. Sighing heavily, he cast a sidelong glance at Tristan, casually sipping his drink.

"Dude, are all of them like this?"

"Society parties?" Tristan smirked, snorting softly, "Huh. This is one of the more lively ones. Give it a few minutes and Harlan McKane, the portly gentleman sniffing his stogie, will perform a full-on striptease on the dining room table amidst my mother's best china." Tristan scoffed, his eyes narrowing at the group of highly distinguished ladies conversing by the appetizers.

"The DAR would deem this gathering to be quite a success, complimenting my mother to her face then scheming to outdo her once she's left their presence."

"Helluva life you've got here, Dugrey." Riley remarked softly, "Teeming with love, wealth, and affection."

Tristan smiled ruefully, "I'd take Amherst over this any day."

Riley snorted, "I'll take Dante's Inferno over this any day..."

"Well, this really sucks…"

The two boys diverted their glances as Alex sidled up beside them, her face a mask of irritation. Lazily, Riley's head lolled sideways to grin at the younger Dugrey.

"Wouldn't you be used to this sort of thing by now?"

Alex rolled her eyes, "Riley, that's like asking if you're used to dentist appointments already. Face it, no matter how many times they poke and prod your teeth, there's always a nerve they haven't touched. Society gatherings are the exact same concept. No matter how many you've attended, there is still another level of tedium to reach…"

"Well, young ones, nice to see you are indulging in some good, ole, clean fun."

The three teenagers glanced up as Janlan Dugrey approached them, an amused smile on his dignified features. Tristan smirked.

"Yeah, Pop. I'd rather be here than at a kegger getting blasted."

"As long as you designate a driver, son." Janlan responded, his chiseled features alight with life.

Tristan grinned, "Sorry, Granddad. Riley's as bad a driver when he's drunk as when he's sober."

Riley glowered, "I resent that, TJ. _I'm_ not the one who almost sent Sergeant Hessler's car careening over the roof trying to park it."

A disgruntled look crossed Tristan's face, "Hey, c'mon now, it stopped in the end…"

Janlan chuckled at the antics of his grandson, "Yes, you were never one to back away from causing a bit of mischief."

Tristan smirked, "Damn straight, Pop."

Janlan swept a favorable eye over his two grandchildren. Tristan and Alex were both vivacious, daring teenagers who lived life like there was no tomorrow, a far cry from the stiff, formal dispositions of their parents. Gregory and Olivia Dugrey existed for their jobs and their social status. On the contrary, Tristan and Alex existed for no purpose but to live and to love with nothing but pure intentions, unmarred by the corruption of the business world and the tyrannical Harford society. Janlan smiled.

"I must say, Tristan. Neither you nor your sister will ever be content with a life in Hartford society."

Alex smiled, "Ain't it the truth, Pop?"

Janlan nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Yep, my dear. That is the truth, and that is the way it should be." Sighing, Janlan backed away.

"Well, my darling scamps, I must be off. Sadly, _I_ am forced to be content with Hartford society. The schmoozing never ends..."

Alex watched him leave, her sapphire eyes scanning the crowd. She straightened as the looming figure of her mother snaked through the guests with an air of purpose.

"Dammit, here comes Mom. I'm making my exit before she hauls me off the meet some 'eligible suitor' from a 'respectable family.'" Departing with a blithe wave, Alex shot an insolent grin over her shoulder.

"See you later, boys."

Tristan gulped down the rest of his drink, narrowing his gaze at his sister, "That's a bitch move, munchkin, forcing Mom on us!" His frown deepening at the tongue stuck in his direction, Tristan growled.

"Remind me why I'm fond of her again?"

Riley smirked, "I might be taking a wild stab in the dark with this assumption, but I'm guessing it has something to do with blood relation?"

The frown stayed on Tristan's face, aimed instead toward his best friend, "Now if I could only figure out why I'm fond of you." Tristan's frown swiftly vanished as his mother approached the pair, a martini glass clutched protectively in her grasp.

"Tristan, Riley, there you two are. There's someone you both should meet." Grabbing both boys by the sleeves of their uniforms, Olivia led the pair to an elderly and distinguished-looking couple.

"Richard, Emily, my son Tristan and his friend Riley Beaumont. Both boys are back from military school on vacation. Boys, Richard and Emily Gilmore."

Richard Gilmore grasped Tristan's outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. His steady blue eyes surveyed the young man with an appraising eye, "Tristan, you attended Rory's birthday celebration last year, am I correct?"

Tristan nodded respectfully, "Yes, I did, sir."

Richard visibly puffed up in glee, "I find it excellent that Rory is associating herself with such a fine family, especially in wake of your accomplishments."

Tristan smiled at the thought of Rory, "Well, sir, I find myself lucky Rory considers me to a be a friend. She is, after all, such an exceptional person." Tristan fidgeted nervously, "I was wondering, Mr. Gilmore, if your granddaughter arrived with you? I was hoping to spend some time catching up with her."

Enraptured by the charming young man, Emily Gilmore smiled from beside her husband, "No, Tristan, I'm afraid not. Rory and her mother are both running a bit late, but I assure you, they should be here within the hour." For her credit, Emily kept the annoyance that her daughter would show up late to such an esteemed family's party stifled beneath a poised veneer.

Inclining his head in gratitude, Tristan threw out his trademark grin, "Well, thank you, Mrs. Gilmore. And I don't believe I complimented you on such a wonderful party you threw Rory a year ago. I had a great time."

Emily placed a hand to her heart, unable to refuse Tristan's graceful charm, "Oh, that was no problem, Tristan. Anything for my granddaughter and her friends. You know you are always welcome to come to the house."

Tristan smiled, "My thanks, Mrs. Gilmore." His glance shifting to his side, he spotted Paris lounging off to the side, "But if you would both excuse me, I see a friend of mine."

With final handshakes, Riley and Tristan turned away from the pair of adults. Once out of earshot, Riley smirked at his best friend.

"Well, Tristan, I don't believe I complimented you on such a wonderful and entertaining display of bullshit I just heard spewing out of your mouth…" Riley remarked, mocking Tristan's cordial tone.

Tristan groaned, "Spare me, please. Everything I said about Rory was true. I just have a part to play. I am, after all, the reformed son…" He winced, stretching out his jaw, "Damn, smiling like that really puts a strain on the cheekbones."

- - -

"Tsk, tsk, Gellar, always the social wallflower."

Paris Gellar scowled as the familiar tone cut through her senses, and she turned to face the smirking visage of Tristan Dugrey, "I'm sorry if I haven't followed the norm of this kind of gathering and wandered into a random coat closet with some arrogant dolt, Tristan, but you see, I have _class_…"

Tristan grinned, "Well, I'm glad time hasn't erased the fantastic relationship you and I share, Paris."

Paris snorted, "Please, Dugrey, the sandbox is a widespread amount of time for me to attempt to disregard."

Tristan laughed, "Always quick with the retort, Gellar. Can't say I haven't missed that."

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "How could you have missed something I do to you on a daily basis?"

Tristan grinned, winking at Paris, "Ah, but you fail to capture the radiance and poise of my dear Paris Gellar, Beau."

Paris shook her head, "It wouldn't matter where the response came from, Tristan. Nothing can dent that monstrous ego of yours."

Tristan shook his head, "Paris, Paris, Paris. You wound me deep."

"Kinda hard when you're pretty shallow to begin with." Paris shot back, not missing a beat.

Riley chuckled, leaning back against the bar, observing the verbal sparring with an amused lilt to his gray eyes. As the two jousted back and forth, Riley surveyed the blonde standing toe-to-toe with his best friend, not backing down in the slightest. He lingered on her long blonde hair and deep brown eyes, sharp as a hawk's and just as menacing as they gleamed out from an attractive, intelligent face. Paris Gellar intrigued him, and Riley had liked what he heard about the feisty blonde from his best friend.

Tristan glanced up as the harsh melody of the doorbell resonated through the hall, and catching his mother's nod of affirmation, Tristan sighed heavily.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls…"

Riley smirked, "It tolls for thee."

Tristan forced out a pained smile, "I'll be back."

Riley laughed at his best friend's obvious agony, and he turned back to face Paris Gellar. The blonde's eyes were fixated determinedly on her drink cup, refusing to catch his glance. Riley nudged her gently.

"So you're Paris?"

Paris jumped, her eyes glancing up into a pair of pale pewter orbs, shining with curiosity, almost alarmed that he would be addressing her. Nodding her head, she laughed uneasily, "That would be correct. A result of being conceived in the City of Lights after a drunken tryst."

Riley's lips split into a roguish grin, offering his hand out, "Riley Beaumont."

Paris accepted the outstretched hand, shaking it firmly, "I know. I was in Mr. Stecher's government class when you stopped by." Paris studied the tall, handsome boy lounging against the wall. As he gazed down on her, she found his light gray eyes mesmerizing, drawing her into the dashing grin curving his face alight with an impish quality. He was gorgeous, no one could refute that fact, but why would he be interested in her?

Riley grimaced, the memory rushing back, "I hope I astounded you with my extensive knowledge of the first three articles of the United States' Constitution."

Paris shrugged, "You did, I suppose. I was impressed that you referenced _Marbury vs. Madison_. That was a good touch."

Riley chuckled, shaking his head, "I'm going to lie, revealing my comprehensive understanding of the United States' government was not exactly my primary purpose for being here."

Paris tilted her head, her eyes meeting his directly, "I would have been astonished if it was. I had a suspicion it had something to do with Rory Gilmore when you two came in. Tristan lacks a certain subtlety."

Riley grinned, "That he does." Shifting, Riley turned to face her, his intense gray eyes searching hers, "TJ always said you were a sharp one."

"Well I do admit, Tristan has seen the sharpness more than anyone." Paris, paused, "Except maybe Rory Gilmore."

Riley smirked, "Do you always do that when you feel threatened?"

"Well, I think I have a right to. You try working as hard as I have and seeing everything on the verge of a colossal meltdown. You have no right to judge me. I know I was wrong."

Riley only quirked an eyebrow, "Easy. I wasn't trying to judge you."

Paris squared up to Riley, a furious glint to her dark eyes, "Funny. What just spewed out of your mouth could be deemed as pretty judgmental. You know, this is pretty rich coming from a delinquent from military school."

Said mouth curved in a grin, "And I shall call her, 'Hypocritical…'"

Paris blinked with realization. Her cheeks reddening, she glanced downwards, the aggressive sheen to her eyes lightening slightly, "I'm sorry. Did you find that offensive?"

Riley shook his head, a small smile tilting the corner of his mouth, "No. Not at all. My ego will heal eventually, but that was more appealing than anything. You didn't back down."

Paris glanced away, her brown eyes hardening, "Backing down means you allow the other person to be better than you. I refuse to let someone be better than I am." Paris shrugged, "But in Rory's case, backing down means I just might gain a friend. I can't exactly say I possess a lot of those…"

Riley gently turned her head, dragging her eyes to meet his, "You can call me a friend."

Paris frowned dubiously, "Do you always offer friendship to someone you just met?"

Riley allowed a tiny grin to bloom onto his handsome features, "I didn't just meet you. TJ's talked about you since the first day I met him. You know him just as well as I do, and I've heard enough about you to know I'd like your friendship."

Paris shook her head, "You are an interesting one, Riley Beaumont."

Riley smiled, "That's what they tell me. I refuse to be common. Common men go nowhere."

Paris raised an eyebrow, "Hm…interesting use of the transcendentalist philosophy. Emerson?"

Riley smirked, "Herb Brooks. Hockey coach of the 1980 'Miracle' team."

Paris rolled her eyes, "Figures."

Riley chuckled. Glancing around at the obvious vivacity of the party, he stretched out a hand, "So…you wanna dance?"

Paris glanced down at the offering then up into his pale pewter eyes, "Did Tristan put you up to this?"

Riley scoffed, "Please, TJ can't put me up to anything. Besides, it's normally the other way around." Sensing her hesitation, Riley sighed.

"Look, you said that you refuse to let someone be better than you at something." Riley smirked, "I bet you I'm better at dancing."

Paris narrowed her eyes, grabbing his hand, "You're on."

Riley led her onto the designated dance floor. In a smooth motion, he twirled her into a dip. Grinning down into her astonished face, Riley waggled his eyebrows.

"Just to let you know, I've had ten years of dance classes…"

- - -

Rory Gilmore huffed as she dragged her mother along the stone path leading to their destination. Considering the lack of exercise Gilmores were know to partake in, this proved to be a difficult task, and Lorelai's whining was not helping matters.

"Roooory, why do we have to go?"

Panting, Rory urged her mother towards the Dugrey door, "In essence, Mom, this is our Friday night dinner."

Lorelai smirked widely, "So this has nothing to do with Hot Tristan attending this party?"

Rory scowled, "Since when is he 'Hot Tristan?'"

"That would be fairly obvious, sweets. And since when do you evade questions?"  
Rory growled, lugging her mother another inch, "This has nothing to do with Hot…I mean, _Tristan_ attending this party."

Lorelai grinned in triumph, "So you _do_ think he's hot!"

"Mom!"

Lorelai shook her head, attempting to backpedal, "So if you aren't here for Hot Tristan, then it's safe to say we can bolt…!"

Rory grunted, tugging her mother's arm forward, "Mom, let's put it this way: we bolt on this party, thrown by the son of Grandpa's best friend, think how much grief and nagging Emily Gilmore will fill your ears with…"

Lorelai halted, her face conveying her horror, "I'd never hear the end of it…"

Rory nodded her agreement emphatically, "She'd badger you till your dying day."

Lorelai winced, "'Cause she's bound to outlive us all." Sighing heavily, Lorelai turned to her daughter.

"Okay, sweets, point taken. Off to the dungeons!"

Rory rolled her eyes, "I knew you'd see it my way." Shifting on her heels on the Dugrey porch, Rory cast an expectant glance to her mother, "Um, the doorbell?"

Lorelai raised her hands, "Nuh-uh, babe. You dragged me here, _you_ ring the doorbell."

"Moooom…"

"Roooory…"

Both Gilmores trailed off as the entryway parted to reveal an amused Tristan. One eyebrow cocked, he grinned.

"Were you two gonna stand out there the whole time or are you waiting from some neon light to pop up indicating that it is okay for you to ring the doorbell?"

Rory stepped in as Tristan allowed them entrance, "Actually, we were just bracing ourselves for the trapdoor that was surely beneath our feet."

Tristan chuckled, "That would be the back door. This one has the catapult that throws you backwards." Taking their coats, Tristan ushered them inside.

"Nice of you guys to come."

Lorelai smirked, "Well, you know us, Tristan. Can't have you providing all the scandal. Hartford's elite loves to ogle and mock me and my offspring."

Tristan's face softened, "You managed to escape all this. You're able to live life the way you wanted, not how society dictated. You found genuine love. I'd give everything for that."

Lorelai smiled, "I basically did. I don't regret it, but I wouldn't advise going my way."

Tristan's gaze fell on Rory, listening with rapt attention, "Maybe not, but I do have to say, this world's a lot better with what you gave us."

Rory blushed, hiding her pleased smile as she rolled her eyes, "Yeah, Dugrey, that wasn't cheesy…"

Tristan's mouth dropped open in defense, "Hey, nothing is ever cheesy with me. Besides, it was all true." Tristan nudged Rory playfully, "And I'd request in the future, Gilmore, that you refer to all my actions as 'smooth.' It's much more imposing."

Rory smirked in a manner that was hauntingly familiar, "You're only smooth in your own mindset, Tristan."

Before he had a chance to respond, Olivia Dugrey's voice summoned his presence, no doubt to display his 'reformed state' to yet another Hartford dignitary. An aggrieved expression wracking his countenance, Tristan shot the Gilmore girls an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, ladies. The screech has sounded, and I have no choice but to oblige."

As Tristan's broad back was engulfed by the surrounding bodies, Lorelai wrapped an arm around her daughter.

"Tall, built, witty, hot, and completely delectable in a uniform. Explain to Mommy again why you hate him?"

Rory laid her head against her mother's comforting shoulder, sighing defeatedly, "I had it once, but now, the reasoning's completely escaped my comprehension…"

Lorelai patted her daughter's arm sympathetically, leading them into the crush of socialites, "I know, babe. Sometimes the long shots have a way of surprising you…Oooh! Cheese balls!"

- - -

The end chords of music faded into the night, replaced by the incessant chatter of gossip from Hartford's elite. Paris reluctantly pulled away from Riley's firm and muscled body. Glancing up, she met the dancing silver eyes twinkling down at her from his lofty six-three frame.

"So what do you say, Paris?"

Paris bit her lip, forcing her eyes to meet his, "I don't know, Beaumont. I don't think one dance is sufficient proof enough. You know, we scientific minds need multiple accounts of evidence."

Riley grinned, reaching out a hand. Before she had a chance to accept his offer, a whirl of blonde hair scampered out to the terrace, a head of darker hair following in a persistent chase. Riley's gaze narrowed as the hushed tones of Alex Dugrey cut through the night. Returning his eyes to Paris, Riley backed away.

"Uh, can I take a rain check? There's something I have to take care of."

Paris trailed her eyes to the direction he was pointing to, "Alex?"

Riley nodded, "At the academy, the boys in your company are like your family. You'd take a bullet for each and every one of them." Riley hitched his head.

"That includes immediate family, too."

Gently grasping her hand, Riley pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, "Don't disappear on me…"

- - -

Alex Dugrey squirmed against Ian Michaels' insistent hold. The self-proclaimed new King of Chilton only inched closer, one hand raking through his mane of dark hair. A suggestive leer tilted his face with none of the confidence and charisma his predecessor possessed.

"C'mon, Alex. Fighting the inevitable isn't considered healthy."

Alex growled, "Bite me, Ian. What's inevitable is me shoving my heel up your ass or introducing your balls to my knee! Take your pick."

Ian advanced, closing the distance between them, "Ooh, I like 'em feisty. C'mon, babe, big brother isn't here."

"No. But I'm worse."

Alex relaxed as a third voice knifed through their conversation, shrouded with authority. Both heads swiveled to find the ominous figure of Riley Beaumont staring down at them, a hard glint to his normally warm eyes. Ian straightened, still finding himself a good five inches short of their new companion as he surveyed Riley with a derisive eye.

"Stay out of it, Boot Camp. This has nothing to do with you."

Riley gave a condescending shake of his head, "Ah, I seriously beg to differ. You mess with Alex, I make it my business. Now, I think it is in your best interest that you step away from her."

Ian squared up to Riley, tilting his head up to leer into the pale eyes, "You think you scare me?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow in response, "Uh, yes…"

Ian bristled, looking his opponent up and down, "Please. I can take you."

Riley snorted with scorn, taking in his opponent's immaculately styled locks "Spare me, Fabio. What are you gonna do, hair-whip me?"

Riley advanced on Ian with an eerie stealth, looming over the shorter boy with a dangerous shine in his clear gray eyes.

"Now, I'm gonna give you two options, Rich Boy. Listen carefully. Option A: you walk away from here with your dignity completely intact, not a scratch on your puny body, or Option B: I drag you out of here with a broken nose and an even more damaged ego. Choose wisely, Preppie, because either way is no sweat for me."

Ian glared at the taller boy, weighing his options. Riley's broad chest and muscled arms were evident beneath his uniform jacket. Straightening his own suit jacket, Ian sniffed with an air of arrogance. A sneer across his face, Ian pointed a finger in Alex's direction.

"It's over between us."

The younger Dugrey rolled her eyes in indifference, "Wouldn't that imply that you had me in the first place?" Alex glared as Ian Michaels stalked back into the party, furiously raking a hand through his hair. Turning to Riley, Alex blushed.

"Uh, thanks."

A corner of Riley's mouth quirked upward in an amused grin, "Somehow, I think this is going to be my vocation concerning you." He nudged the younger teen.

"Don't worry about it. Like I told Paris, your comrades are like your brothers. You vow to protect them and their families as if they were your own." Riley smirked.

"Besides, TJ would have my head if I let any harm come to his little sister."

Alex tilted her head, "Is that what I am? Tristan's little sister?"

Riley shook his head, chuckling ruefully, "Yeah. That's what you are. It's an unwritten rule between friends that you don't go for the younger sister."

Alex sighed, "So you and I…"

"Will be nothing more than friends. But I promise to protect you like you were my own sister."

Alex groaned, "If I wanted another brother, I'd force my parents to procreate again."

Riley snickered, "Scary thought. Don't worry, you'll find someone who isn't as messed up as I am. Sorry, Ali, that's the way it has to be."

Alex cocked an eyebrow, "'Ali?'"

Riley grinned, "Big brother's term of endearment." He nudged her good-humoredly, "Does that mean I'm officially a Dugrey?"

Alex smirked, "I suppose so. A life of cold detachment and neglect is in your future…"

Riley laughed, "I'll take it." Holding out his hand, he led her into the house, "C'mon. Looking after you is hard work. Do me a favor and choose wisely when it comes to guys…?" Turning back to the gardens, he smiled as he saw two figures silhouetted by the small pond in the Dugrey backyard, conversing playfully. Some people were just meant to be friends. And some just weren't.

- - -

Tristan ambled through the crush of people, ignoring the not-so inconspicuous glances his way in an attempt to see Gregory Dugrey's mischievous son in his reformed state. Sidestepping around a wandering caterer, Tristan craned his head, trying to glimpse a certain head of flowing brunette hair. As his gaze skimmed over the crush of socialites, Tristan spotted an isolated figure, her delicate features illuminated by the soft beams of light radiating from the incandescent moon overhead. Casually meandering towards Rory Gilmore, Tristan stopped to grab a few necessities before disappearing out into the abyss of night.

From the appetizer table, Lorelai Gilmore allowed a small smile to cross her features as her wandering gaze caught the strapping figure of Tristan Dugrey strolling in the direction of her daughter. Lorelai repressed a sigh. Rory was beginning to fall, there was absolutely no doubt about that fact. Unlike the legions of socialites currently occupying the Dugrey mansion, Rory didn't have the ability to innately mask the feelings coursing through her sub-conscious psyche. Lorelai had seen the brief flicker of emotion behind the deep sapphire spheres of her daughter whenever Tristan was near, but true to Gilmore form, Rory was either completely oblivious or chose to ignore it. Lorelai suspected the latter. She didn't know how, and she didn't know when, but Lorelai had ample evidence that one day, Rory's relationship with Tristan Dugrey would extend past the boundaries of friendship.

- - -

_"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings cannot be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you…"_

Rory sighed with satisfaction as Darcy spoke his infamous words to an unsuspecting Elizabeth Bennet. She had snuck away from the stuffy, high-brow party to seek solace in the Dugreys' massive backyard. Sitting on a worn wooden bench, overlooking a small pond, her eyes devoured the lines of Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_, the pages well worn with her fingers' constant touch. It was her favorite book, and in her mind, one of the ultimate romances: two people succumb to the gross distortions of character, only to find for themselves a quality in the latter that is quite admirable and particularly appealing. Funny how novels were able to reflect every day life.

"And here sits the elusive Gilmore girl, a quiet and rare breed, rarely seen without her nose engulfed in the pages of a book. Be cautious when approaching, this species of _homo sapien_ is oblivious to surroundings when immersed in a story…"

Rory's head perked up at the familiar voice, resonating through the chilly sky in a sardonic imitation of Steve Irwin. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Rory smiled.

"Ah, a perfect moment of isolation, marred only by the sonorous timbre of Tristan Dugrey."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Gilmore. My 'timbre' has been described as rather sexy…"

Rory snorted, "By a category of girl whose vocabulary is severely limited to words containing two syllables."

Pouting playfully, Tristan shrugged, "Hm, I gather you don't wish the pleasure of my company." He hefted an exaggerated sigh, "Oh, well. I suppose this coffee is to go to waste."

At the magic word, Rory's head whipped in Tristan's direction, her bright azure eyes narrowing in suspicion as they zeroed in on the travel mug clutched in his hand, her countenance unable to mask the delight in her gaze, "You know, Dugrey, you can't bribe me with coffee every time you want something."

Tristan grinned, one eyebrow shooting upward in amusement, "Would you decline it?"

Rory shook her head, "Not the point…"

Tristan laughed, "So, in essence, it's a rather effective collateral."

Rory sighed in defeat, "On all that is holy to a Gilmore…" Tristan's grin widened as he slid onto the worn wooden bench beside her, offering out the coffee. Rory allowed a contented smile to grace her face as the steaming beverage trickled down her throat. She jumped as her shoulders felt a weight bearing down on them, and Rory glanced to the side to find a navy and gray jacket draped across her shoulders. Turning, she sent a questioning glance Tristan's way.

"It's my Amherst letterman's jacket." Shrugging, he removed the cap from his head, "You looked a bit cold." Settling himself into a more comfortable position, one arm draped across the back of the bench, Tristan exhaled in contentment.

"I see you've found my little abode of solitude." Inclining his head to the girl beside him, Tristan grinned, "You're in my seat by the way…"

Rory shot him a pointed look, "Disregarding the fact that your family owns the property, isn't it a bit presumptuous to deem this bench yours?"

Tristan smirked in reply, "No, not really."

Motioning for her to stand, he pointed to the worn wooden planks. Sure enough, his name was carved into the seat, displayed prominently against the boards.

"Is that ample proof for you?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "And here we have the illustrious male, marking his

territory, thereby inflating his ego..."

"My ego doesn't need inflation," Tristan chuckled, "It's lofty enough for me." Holding up a finger, he fished through his pockets to produce a small penknife and bending over, he quickly carved her name into the accompanying seat. Flicking the knife shut, Tristan gestured to the bench with a flourish.

"Okay, now you can sit…"

Rolling her eyes at the gesture, Rory eased down into her designated spot, stifling her amusement. "I'm honored. Should we add a heart in the middle and make it official?"

Tristan shook his head, "Nope, you already stole mine…"

"And you disgust mine," Rory shot back playfully.

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "Hm…if I do, you have a really bad way of showing it, Gilmore."

Rory shook her head, "Tristan, since when have you ever recognized an emotion that wasn't a part of your own agenda?"

Tristan threw his head back, the deep laughter rolling through his body. Rory grinned at his response, relishing in the freedom of the action. A large grin split his lips.

"Touché, Rory. You win with that one." Still smiling, Tristan gestured to the book, "Ah, _Pride and Prejudice_…"

Rory cocked her head, "I'm surprised you recognize this book."

Tristan couldn't help but smirk as he leaned in, "'You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretentions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.'"

Rory shook her head, a disbelieving laugh floating from her lips, "Tristan, you continue to amaze me. First _Cyrano_ and now you're quoting _Pride and Prejudice_?"

Tristan laughed, "I can quote _The Devil Wears Prada_ if you wish…"

Rory smirked, "Maybe another time."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "So, Austen, huh? Can't say I'm surprised."

Rory grinned, "The tale is a classic and so much better than a love at first sight deal."

Tristan nodded, "I agree. Sometimes first impressions aren't the best thing to judge off of."

Rory tilted her head, "Ironic how this is coming from the walking personification, himself."

Tristan grinned, "Well, true love is never at first sight…"

Rory frowned, "Really? How so? Don't you believe in that?"

Tristan shook his head, "Nope. People may say they fell in love at first sight, but to me, that can never be accurate. 'Love at first sight' is more infatuation than anything. That infatuation blinds a person to whatever flaws and faults possessed. You see only what's in front of you, not what's veiled within. The 'love' you feel doesn't have any basis behind it, other than appearance, something superficial."

Tristan shrugged, "Real love, _true_ love, comes from patience and effort. True love is when you've seen the extent of a person's faults and imperfections and have accepted them as part of who the person is. _That's_ true love: taking the good with the bad and still loving."

Rory stared intently at the boy across from her, "Well, that was certainly something I'd never had expected from you. If you had busted that out at Chilton, I might have thought twice about not dating you…"

Tristan chuckled, the deep resonance of his voice causing Rory to smile. She found she liked the sound of his laugh. Tristan glanced at her, "I don't know, Rory. I wasn't that great of a person when we first met."

Rory nodded, "Yeah, you weren't. But that's not to say you haven't changed."

Tristan shrugged, "I guess, I just wanted you to like me, Rory. There's just something about you that makes me want to be your friend."

Rory's eyes shot up to his deep gaze, sensing the genuine sincerity, "You know, you haven't called me 'Mary' since you came back."

Tristan laughed, "I thought you hated that damn moniker. But not like you weren't one though…"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Besides the point…" Shrugging, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't know, I'm just so taken aback and overwhelmed by this 'new' you that I'm getting kinda nostalgic for the old jackass I knew."

Tristan obligingly smirked, his expression easing into his old leer as his voice lowered to the husky tone he'd often used when flirting with his many conquests, "Well, Mary, just say the word."

Rory laughed, hiding the shivers rolling through her spine at his sensual tenor, "That's not to say you won't be interspersing those with my real name, correct?"

Tristan laughed, "I always knew your name, _Rory_. I just chose never to use it."

Rory's gaze met his deep blue eyes, slowly reaching over to gently grasp his hand, "I'm really glad you're back, Tristan."

Tristan nodded, his thumb stroking her knuckles, "Me, too."

They fell into a companionable silence, reveling in each other's company. Her eyes traveled to the small pond out in the distance and an indulgent smile turned the corners of her mouth as she snuggled into the depths of Tristan's jacket.

"It's really beautiful out here."

Tristan quirked a small grin, his eyes fixated onto her pleased countenance. Chuckling softly, he nodded his agreement, "Yeah, it is…"

Rory shifted, tilting her head to the boy beside her, his eyes burning into hers with a searching intensity, "Do you come out here often?"

Tristan snorted, stretching his legs out, "I would go out here every time my parents spewed another disgusted comment that I was a disgrace to the Dugrey name and that I'd never go anywhere in life. Which, if I am correct, would be something akin to…say, hourly?" He cast a sidelong glance in Rory's direction, "Does that answer your question?"

Rory's brow furrowed, not at his brisk response but at the shrouded depths of hurt shining in his piercing cobalt gaze. Just as quickly as the sheen appeared, it vanished, replaced by its normal hardened glint. Rory tentatively placed a hand on Tristan's, fighting to ignore the warmth spreading rapidly through her body from the contact.

"They're wrong, you know. You _are_ going somewhere Tristan."

Tristan frowned. Her voice was quiet but firm as she spoke those words, and he smiled his gratitude, the light in his eyes response enough. Clearing his throat, he shot an embarrassed glance at the girl beside him.

"Uhm, thanks."

Rory shifted to fully face him, sliding her arms through the sleeves his jacket, the mug of coffee lying discarded at her feet, "For what?"

Tristan shrugged, unnaturally hesitant, "For what you did with Dean. For what you said."

Rory returned his shrug, "It was nothing."

Tristan allowed his eyes to meander downwards, "Yeah, it was. As much as I don't like Bag Boy, I never meant to cause you problems with your boyfriend…"

Rory sighed, "I don't know if I can categorize Dean as my boyfriend after today…"

"He'd be an idiot to leave you again…"

Tristan let out an impatient sigh, running his hands through the lack of hair on his scalp as a frustrated habit.

"Dammit, Gilmore, I honestly don't get you…I've been trying to figure out why you did it, but I just can't seem to grasp the concept."

Rory gripped his arms, halting his rant, "Because you're my friend, Tristan. I don't need a reason."

Tristan exhaled heavily, "I've never given you a reason to be my friend in the first place…"

Rory smiled, shifting closer to him to wrap her arms around his muscular torso. Surprised, Tristan returned the gesture, holding back a groan at the sensation of Rory Gilmore in his arms. Rory blushed as the embrace brought her cheek to rest by his, the shaved stubble of his hair tickling her nose, his warm breath on her collar. Drawing back, she gazed determinedly into the piercing abyss of his warm blue eyes, cloudy with suppressed emotions.

"You gave me a reason the moment you left. You solidified that reason when Riley sent me your letters."

Tristan jerked back, an expression of astonishment flicking across his features, "Riley sent you my letters?"

Rory frowned, nodding, "Yeah, about twenty of them."

Tristan bit back a groan, muttering under his breath, "I'm gonna kill Beau…" His eyes drifting up to Rory's, he sighed, "You weren't supposed to get them."

Rory grinned teasingly, "Why, Dugrey? Ashamed I'd know about your romp in drag on Valentine's day?"

Tristan let out a strangled moan, "He sent you that one?"

Rory laughed, pulling him down beside her, "Yeah. He did, and I'm glad he did because I caught a glimpse at the Tristan Dugrey I knew existed."

Tristan buried his face in his hands, rubbing softly, "I wanted you to find out but not that way…" he mumbled.

Rory giggled, "Well, that is possible. When are you going back?"

Tristan shrugged, "Next Sunday."

Rory grinned, "Well why don't you and Riley pick me up from school on Friday. You guys can come to Stars Hollow, and you can show me the new and improved Tristan Dugrey."

Tristan frowned, "Don't you have some kind of dinner with your grandparents?"

Rory shrugged, "They have a DAR gathering that's really important."

Tristan shook his head, taken aback at her offer, "I…I couldn't impose."

Rory rolled her eyes, "You've already come to Stars Hollow voluntarily. That renders you already crazy. Coming on an invite should be a given."

Tristan grinned, "Well, if you insist…"

Rory laughed. With a spontaneous abandon, Rory threw her arms around Tristan hugging him tightly, "I do."

Unwilling to let go, Tristan deepened the hug. Neither party was able to disregard the heat radiating from the embrace, although Rory willed the feeling out of her consciousness. Laying her head on Tristan's shoulder, Rory turned her head so he wouldn't see the contemplative light to her features.

"Rooory!"

The pair broke away as Lorelai's figure rapidly approached, her arms pumping in a brisk walk. Tristan rose, helping Rory to her feet as they gazed on Lorelai as she skidded to a halt. Throwing the younger Gilmore her coat, Lorelai shoved her arms through her own.

"C'mon, sweets. We gotta book. Mom's intent on setting me up with Damien Naughton. Not to mention she _still_ hasn't rebuked me for being late."

Tristan cocked an amused eyebrow, "Damien Naughton, the toilet paper tycoon?"

Lorelai shuddered, "The _scented_ toilet paper tycoon. Sorry, Bible Boy, but me being set up with a toilet paper tycoon is just…"

"Wrong?" Tristan offered.

Lorelai nodded her approval, "Wrong."

Tristan grinned, "Well, thanks for coming." Leaning in conspiratorially to the elder Gilmore, Tristan presented a piece of advice.

"I'd take the back way. There's a small gate to the right of the side door that leads straight to the valet station."

Rapidly tugging her daughter away, Lorelai shot over her shoulder, "Thanks, Evil One and thanks for not corrupting my daughter on a balcony!"

At Tristan's confused expression, Rory rolled her eyes, calling back to him, "I'll see you on Friday!"

Tristan chuckled as the pair of Gilmore girls disappeared into the night. Plucking the coffee cup from the ground, Tristan smiled to himself. Something told him that this relationship was gonna take a little patience.

- - -

Lorelai glanced at her daughter, once again deep in contemplation. Smirking, she nudged her namesake, "So Friday?"

Rory nodded absently, "Uh, yeah, I invited him to spend the day with us…he and Riley are gonna be bored stiff at home. I thought I'd invite him to a movie night."

Lorelai cocked her head, "And what will Dean think about this?"

Rory sighed in frustration, "Honestly, I don't care. I'm tired of Dean's insane jealousy. Tristan and I are friends, and if Dean can't deal with that, I'm not going to try and choose."

"You know, babe, most of the time it's the old enemy that's expendable, not the boyfriend…"

Rory dipped her head down, clutching the jacket tighter around her frame, "Mom, if I start choosing now, I'm going to keep choosing. I don't want to ever choose."

Lorelai sighed, "I can understand that, I guess. Just never choose a boy over me, huh, sweets?"

Rory nodded, holding out her pinky, "I promise, Mom."

Lorelai accepted the proffered digit, "Good, because if you did, I just might have to persuade Luke to cut you off…"

Rory frowned, "Mom, that's as malicious as it gets…"

Lorelai smirked, "Just a threat, babe…just a threat." Her eyes shifting to the jacket around her daughter's shoulders, Lorelai frowned.

"Rory, you weren't wearing that when we came."

Rory's gaze shot down to the jacket covering her torso, and she groaned, "Crap, I forgot to give Tristan his jacket back."

Lorelai quirked an interested eyebrow, "And what are you doing with Evil One's jacket in the first place?"

Rory fought to conceal her blush, "We were talking out near the pond and he offered it to me to keep it warm."

Lorelai didn't respond, only returning her gaze back to the road. Yep, this relationship between Tristan Dugrey and her daughter was proving to be rather interesting, indeed.

- - -

Rory sighed as she climbed out of the Jeep. Sleep. That's what she needed: a lot of sleep. Anything to get that feeling of Hartford's notorious detachment away from her consciousness. Trumping to the front door, Rory paused as she recognized the tall lanky figure sitting on the porch steps.

"Dean?"

Dean straightened, his hands stuffed uneasily into the pockets of his jeans, "Uh, hi."

Rory frowned, drawing Tristan's jacket tighter around her frame, nodding to her mother as Lorelai gestured to the house, "What are you doing here?"

Dean shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Before the strands flopped back down on his forehead, Rory ran her gaze over the split in his lip and the darkening under his eye, "I called you."

Rory shook her head, "Tonight's Friday. You know I had to attend a party in Hartford."

Dean nodded, "I just needed to talk."

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "About how completely immature you acted today or how you managed to make a fool out of yourself?"

Dean sighed, "Look, I came to apologize."

Rory rubbed her temples tiredly, "Look, Dean. Trust is something important in a relationship, and if you can't trust me…"

"I do!" Dean insisted, "It's _him_ I don't trust."

"Even if you don't trust him, Dean, you should trust me not to give in. Tristan's my friend."

Dean frowned as his eye caught the jacket across her shoulders, "Whose jacket is that?"

Rory tensed, "Tristan's."

"Why are you wearing his jacket?" Not waiting for a response, Dean growled, "Dammit, Rory, why him? He was a jerk to you. What happened?"

Rory met the furious dark eyes directly, "He changed."

Dean scoffed, "Like hell."

Rory snorted, "You must really think I have a bad judgment of character, Dean. In case you forgot what transpired this afternoon, you managed to insult Riley, him, and me all in one sitting, and _he_ defended me. Doesn't that seem a bit backwards to you, Dean? That my boyfriend insults me but the former bane of my existence defends me?

Rory shut her eyes with fatigue, "Look, he may still be the same Tristan to you, but that's because he doesn't like you. Not that you've given any reason for that. But to me, he's different. Why can't you just accept our friendship?"

Dean scowled, digging his hands deeper in his pockets, "Because I know it's going to lead to something more."  
Rory replied with an angry toss of her head, "You know what, Dean? I'm tired of this. Maybe it was wishful thinking that things could get back together the way they once were…" Hefting a labored sigh, Rory stared defiantly up into his eyes.

"I think we should take a break."

Dean recoiled, "What?"

Rory shook her head, "We should take a break. I can't take any more of your jealousy, Dean. The constant looking over my shoulders, the fights with Jess, the fight with Tristan…"

Dean growled, "So you can run to him?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "No, Dean. So _you_ can grow up. It's over."

Dean whirled, seething with anger and resentment, "Fine. But don't come crying to me when he stomps all over your heart."

Rory watched him go, a sad smile on her face. Everything rushed towards her in a relentless onslaught of emotion. Sadness, guilt, remorse all merged together in a jumble of confusion. But one emotion that was not prevalent among that muddled thoughts and contemplations was regret. Rory couldn't bring herself to regret her decision. She didn't regret her choice. For once, she was taking a chance on Tristan, and, no matter the outcome, Rory didn't think she would ever regret this choice. Entering the house, she backed up against the door, sliding down to sit. Lorelai plopped down beside her daughter.

"Do you think you made the right choice, babe?"

Rory propped her head on her fist, "Yeah, Mom. I did. I never gave Tristan a chance before. I've given Dean like a million. I just think this is worth it."

Lorelai pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, "I trust you, babe, and as much as I loved having Dean around, I have to say that I agree with you. There's something there between you two. Something that could possibly end up being amazing. Just give this time and just give this patience. It might surprise you."

Rory nodded, sub-consciously drawing Tristan's jacket more securely around her body. As she inhaled deeply, the only coherent thought in her mind was not the recent fight with Dean but the intoxicating scent of Tristan Dugrey that sparked her nostrils. Leaning her head on Lorelai's shoulders, Rory sought solace in the warm material covering her body. Just friends, how hard was that to get?

_Well, there we ago. Whew, this was one long chapter. I hope you all like it. I'm sorry if this is a bit slow-paced, but right now, I'm building up a lasting relationship between both Rory and Tristan and Riley and Rory that will be able to transcend distances and time as we move onto further chapters. The next chapter is one of the last in the Chilton universe before we are onto graduation and Yale. I hope you stay tuned…_

_Roxy_


	5. Make Your Decision

**Disclaimer: **_Although I envy ASP, I don't own anything._

_Wow, once again the response to this story has definitely blown me away. I am so happy! It's great you readers all enjoy this story, and I definitely enjoy writing it. As alluded to previously, this is one of the final chapters in the Chilton Universe. The next chapter will cover Rory's graduation from Chilton as well as Riley and Tristan's from Amherst. In this chapter, we get a glimpse to Tristan's reformation, and a surprise…_

_I hope you all don't think Riley's too perfect, but worry not, he gets some complications later…_

_Onward!_

**Chapter 5**

_Make Your Decision and Don't You Dare Think Twice_

Rory exited Luke's Diner amidst the stares and whispers of her fellow Stars Hollow inhabitants. Squinching her eyes shut, she sighed heavily. What had transpired between Riley, Tristan, Dean, and herself occurred in the town's square amidst the fresh Connecticut air, so needless to say, the entire population of Stars Hollow was aware of the incident by sundown. Of course, the vivid black eye Dean currently sported accompanying a split lip failed to help matters.

Navigating through the ogling patrons, Rory trumped towards her bus stop. Glancing at her watch, she noticed she had a good half an hour until her boat would come to whisk her along the River Styx to Hades and his kingdom commonly referred to as Hell. Rory paused as she spotted Jess' prominent figure lounging against the wooden bench, the smoke wafting from the lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Cautiously, she approached him, settling down beside his prone and idle form.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Jess leaned his head back, sending a stream of smoke cascading from his lips, "Yup."

Rory shook her head, rolling her eyes, "That being said, shouldn't you be helping Luke?"

Jess scoffed, "Nope." Stretching languidly, he spread his arms across the bench, "I'm on my break."

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "Your shift started fifteen minutes ago."

Jess flicked his ashes on the ground between his feet, "Really? I hadn't noticed with the sudden barrage of hunger-ravished residents flooding the tables."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Your sense of morality and ethics never ceases to amaze me."

Jess chuckled dryly, "And your penchant for having tall guys fight over you never ceases to amaze _me_."

Rory grimaced, "You heard about that?"

Jess smirked, "Somewhat. Who's the jarhead?"

Rory failed to impede the pleased smile from blossoming across her face, "Tristan Dugrey."

Jess shook his head, quirking an eyebrow at her response, "I know that. I meant who is he to _you_?"

Rory frowned, shrugging, "Former bane of my existence, perpetual source of irritation, tormentor, all-around schmuck. He loved to taunt Dean just because he could." Rory laughed in spite of herself. "Dean never could keep up with Tristan."

Jess took a long drag from his cigarette, "That's funny. Tormentors don't normally punch out boyfriends in your defense."

Rory shrugged, glancing at Jess over her shoulder, "He's changed. Dean didn't really like the fact that we're friends, and I'm not going to choose."

"So are you thinking about dating this guy?"

Rory's eyes snapped in Jess' direction. His dark eyes regarded her with unabashed curiosity. Sighing heavily, she shrugged.

"I don't know, Jess. I mean, I just broke up with Dean, and Tristan's…" Rory struggled to articulate the torrent of conflicting emotions surging through her body.

"Tristan's different, and I'm still trying to appease myself with this new Tristan. I mean, maybe one day. But right now, I'm just trying to get used to the fact I don't possess the urge to smack him whenever I see him."

Jess nodded, crushing the cigarette beneath his booted heel, "I'm assuming correctly in you didn't kiss this Tristan guy when you saw him, right?"

Her brow furrowing in confusion, Rory shook her head, "Uh, no. Considering the fact that I saw him in Government class, I don't think my teacher would appreciate me jumping him in an educational environment…"

Jess smirked, "Well, then, good to know my prospectives still are open." Standing, he sauntered back to the diner. Shooting a look over his shoulder, Jess' smirk widened.

"Well, gotta go mollify the savage masses…"

Rory's gaze stayed fixated on his back, frowning in contemplation. First Dean, then Tristan, and now Jess…what was this, a love square? Rory sighed. What was with guys these days? Why her?

- - -

Rory shifted anxiously in her seat. For the first time in a very long time, she waited in restless anticipation for the wonderfully welcome sound of the bell, signaling the conclusion of another monotonous week that drew her closer to graduation and the beginning of the respite of two days surreptitiously dubbed the weekend. Anxiety getting the best of her studious mind, her vivid blue eyes continuously flicked to the clock above Mr. Stecher's desk, anxiously counting down the seconds until the final…

_BRRRINGG_!

With the anticipated cacophony of metal, twenty students simultaneously rose from their seats, stuffing papers, books, and pens into backpacks as the hoard migrated towards the door as the teacher attempted to shout final instructions to the passing throng, conceding defeat to the lure of the weekend. As Rory stepped over the threshold into the hallway, Paris accosted her by the door.

"Gilmore, emergency! Now!"

Rory held out a hand, steadying her friend and guiding her to the side, "Whoa, Paris. Easy. What's the emergency?"

"Oh, I don't know, Rory. Maybe the one thing I live, breathe, and bleed for? The Franklin's deadline is on Monday, and we have no layout editor! Ethan Sandoval has been absent for the last eight days with a stomach bug gone madcap, and we still have arts and entertainment, sports, and leisure to arrange. There's no one else on call that we can use to help with the layout; they're all still working on the articles. Given that you and I are the only competent people on our staff chock-full of cretins, I would deem this situation officially catastrophic! I refuse to not meet our deadline!"

Overwhelmed by the rapid assault of babble erupting from Paris' lips, Rory closed her eyes, cradling her head in her hands. Taking a moment to process the onslaught of information, Rory soothed her friend, "Okay, look. I'm having Tristan and Riley over my house for a movie night. Why don't you join us and we'll help you with everything."

Paris stared at the taller girl dubiously, "Wait, Riley's going to be there?"

Rory nodded, "Uh, yeah…Considering the only person he knows in Hartford is Tristan, I would think he's going to come. Entertaining oneself is a rather tedious process…"

Paris' eyes widened, her gaze fixated on Rory with a blank glint, "I – I can't be there if he is…"

Rory halted, her steady blue eyes shining with an unbridled amusement, "I don't believe this, Paris. You like Riley."

Paris scowled, turning her head away from the insistent stare, "Look, I just think that him being there is not going to help my working environment."

Riley grinned, "But you still fail to deny it."

Paris gave an aggravated toss of her head, "What's there not to like? He's extremely good-looking, he's obviously smart, and he's witty. He's not like any other imbeciles around here." Paris cast her eyes downward, "He's…different."

"So why would he go for me?"

"From what I hear from Tristan, he already is…" Rory remarked, prompting a double take from Paris. The blonde frowned.

"What do you mean, Gilmore?"

Rory shifted, smiling widely, "I mean that Riley hasn't stopped weeding information about you since the Dugrey party. According to Tristan, Riley says you're, 'Absolutely and completely intriguing as well as an excellent dancer. Still pales in comparison to me, however.'"

Paris grumbled low beneath her breath, "Like hell I do. He was the one slightly off on timing."

Rory failed to impede the giggle, "Wait, you danced with him?"

Paris shot her a stare, "Yes, I did."

Rory didn't respond, only shaking her head, "Look, Paris, why don't you come with us tonight? You know, have fun, and relax? We'll work on the layout on Sunday."

Paris frowned dubiously, "I don't know, Rory…"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Please, Paris. Contrary to popular belief, having a bit of fun will not prove to be detrimental to your health nor devastate your potential chances of attending Harvard."

Paris huffed a relenting sigh, refusing to meet Rory's eyes, "Alright, Gilmore. But only because you insisted."

Rory snorted, "Paris, you wouldn't do something if you didn't want to even if I held a gun to your head. Do me a favor and admit that you're going for Riley."

Paris failed to hold back a pleased smile, "Okay, so maybe I am. Crime?"

Rory smiled, "Nope. Never."

- - -

Tristan lounged against the hood of his Mercedes-Benz SUV, drinking in the fresh Chilton air. Idly, he twirled the platinum class ring around the ring finger of his right hand, his thumb brushing against the deep blue stone set in the middle. Fidgeting slightly, he turned to Riley.

"I'm nervous. I've never been nervous over a girl before. Is it bad to be nervous?"

Riley chuckled, playing with his own class ring gracing his finger, "Wow, TJ. Ramble much?"

Tristan let out a deep breath, "C'mon, Beau. I mean it. I'm really nervous, and it feels weird."

Riley absently scratched his scalp, "Of course you're nervous, TJ. This is the first girl you've honestly cared about; that you've taken the time to get to know. It's different when a girl actually means something."

Tristan shrugged, "I denno, Beau. Just a few weeks ago, she hated me. And now, I'm spending a day with her. Right now, I'm bordering on disbelief."

Riley laughed at his best friend's disposition, "She told you she never hated you, TJ. Right now, she's giving you a chance. So don't be and idiot and let it go by."

Tristan didn't respond, contemplating Riley's words. Absently, he twisted his class ring around his finger, frowning slightly. Riley was right, as usual…Tristan hadn't been given many chances with Rory Gilmore, and the ones he had received, he screwed up royally. This was possibly the last chance that presented itself, and damned if Tristan wasn't going to seize the day and take it.

- - -

"Can I just say I find it slightly odd that you have a duffle bag fully packed and stocked with toiletries ready to go?"

Paris shot a glare to the brunette beside her, "Preparation, Gilmore. Always be prepared. Hasn't this school taught you anything?"

Rory scoffed slightly, shaking her head, "It's definitely taught me that Hell is an actual place and Satan really exists…Does that cover it?" Emerging out onto the parking lot, Rory grinned as the lofty form of Tristan Dugrey drifted into her line of vision.

"Speaking of the devil…"

Paris snorted, "No pun intended, right?"

Rory laughed, looking Tristan up and down as he straightened from his lounging position. Being a girl, Rory couldn't help but appreciate the sight of him not confined by a Chilton uniform. The well-worn, destroyed jeans hung low on his lean hips, clinched by a leather belt, allowing a pair of black Adidas Gazelles to poke through. A gray and black polo shirt complimented his fit body, highlighting his chiseled biceps and forearms as his well-defined pectoral muscles that strained against the fabric. As he stretched, Rory caught a peek of the six-pack concealed beneath his t-shirt. Damn.

Her eyes drifted from his body to his piercing eyes shining with amusement. Rory felt her face redden as Tristan smirked.

"Like what you see, Gilmore?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Please, Tristan. Don't flatter yourself. I was simply wondering how your pants are able to stay up when they're already halfway down your butt."

Tristan grinned, "So you _were_ checking out my butt." Tristan rotated, shaking his derriere slightly, "Can't say I blame you. It is a body part I'm well-complimented on…"

"Because it's so fun to kick," Rory snarked with a toss of her head.

The blue in Tristan's eyes sparked with his amusement, "Kiss, too."

"Tristan, the only people who are will to kiss your butt are the ones who are wishing to get said body part, not to mention be taking those pants off in the process."

Tristan laughed, "Hey now, one could never say Tristan Dugrey isn't a man of class and style…Besides, my pants are hanging low, not 'sagging…'"

Rory snorted, "Class, Tristan?"

Riley stepped in before the flirting between the pair reached critical mass, "Uh, as amusing as this all is, guys. And believe me, it really is, but at the rate you two are going, we're never gonna leave this parking lot."

Tristan grinned, relenting, "Alright, then. Let's get on the road, shall we?"

Riley returned the grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Paris inching away from the group towards her car. Hitching a thumb, he gestured to the departing blonde, "I'm gonna catch a ride with Paris. You two have fun." Waggling his eyebrows at Tristan, Riley winked.

"Don't take any detours, huh?"

Tristan scowled, delivering a solid punch to Riley's arm as he chased after the girl, "Bite me, Beaumont. Just because you haven't gotten any."

Turning back to Rory, Tristan rotated, opening the door, ushering her in with a sweep of his arm and a bow of his head, "Milady…"

Rory smiled, sliding into the front seat, "Geez, Dugrey, do you have a car for every day of the week?"

Tristan chuckled, "And two for Sundays. See, my parents' philosophy for love and affection is, although they are completely unable to show it, they do feel they have the ability to buy it. This car was for missing my junior year awards assembly. You should see Alex's cache of vehicles."

The laughing expression on Rory's face disappeared at the horror of Tristan's family life. She had a difficult time appeasing the image of Tristan's home life to the lively, vigorous boy beside her. From his description of his family, she expected him to be bitter and pessimistic, hating the world with a passion, and Rory supposed he had been before. But where the bitter Tristan once resided, stood a determined boy, resolute into making something of his life.

Tristan started the motor, glancing sideways to the brunette beside him, "Ready?"

Rory smiled at the easy grin on his face, "Mush, Jeeves."

- - -

Paris sat behind the wheel of her car, her face in her hands. She had never dealt with a crush like the one she harbored for Riley. With Tristan, it was different. She was always in control of her infatuation with the boy she had known since the sandbox. If anything, her crush on the former delinquent was one of many years of constant interactions that eventually bloomed into a contemplation of 'what the hell, why not?' With Riley, the feelings he provoked were ones of intense passion, a simple gaze from his smoldering, pale gray spheres sending her senses fluttering across the Richter scale. With Riley, control was nonexistent. She was unable to mask her obvious attraction. In her eyes, there would never be a more perfect man, and one so far out of her league.

A light tapping yanked Paris away from her reveries, and she glanced up as Riley stuck his head in the open window of her passenger side. The impish grin on his face caused her to simultaneously narrow her eyebrows in suspicion as well as forcing her pulse to still. Damn, he looked good. The white t-shirt highlighting some obscure band displayed his muscular physique, and as he leaned on her open window, the thin silver medallion around his neck dangled over the glass as the hem of his shirt rode up slightly showing a sliver of the boxers he wore beneath a pair worn brown corduroy pants.

"So, the going rate is ten grand for an hour, and if you add an extra five grand, I can make your wildest fantasies come true." Riley smirked, "So, do I have a sell?"

Paris snorted, "You're gonna have to work on that sales pitch, Beaumont, if you want any takers."

Riley pouted, "Aw, shucks. I was hoping my rugged good-looks and effortless charm would be selling point enough…" Propping an elbow on the car window, Riley tilted his head, one arm idly scratching the fabric of the three-quarter sleeved black shirt beneath his t-shirt. His gray eyes twinkled playfully.

"But I'd settle for a ride to Stars Hollow…Game?"

Paris hitched her head, gesturing to the passenger seat. As Riley slid in beside her, she couldn't stop the blush that spread across her cheeks as he leaned over to accommodate his lofty six-three frame into the car, she was presented with a nice shot of his behind. Settling himself into the seat, Riley frowned.

"Uh, are you okay?"

Paris swallowed audibly, nodding, "I'm fine."

Riley shrugged, propping one ankle onto his knee, the black Chuck Taylor shoe covering his foot wiggling idly, "Alright, Miss Gellar. Off to Stars Hollow we go."

Paris nodded, her eyes fixed determinedly on the road. She may be falling for Riley Beaumont, but that didn't mean she would completely show it.

- - -

"Okay, so Beau's in front of me, directing me where to go. Now, I'm preoccupied at the moment, looking over my shoulder to see my general position. All of a sudden, my foot slips from the brake pad and slams down on the accelerator. The car jerks forward, and Riley dives out of the way to avoid getting plastered on the hood of the car. I'm in a panic and a shove my foot down on the brake. The car skids about two feet, and the front wheels are dangling over the edge of the roof."

Rory listened with rapt attention to Tristan's tale as the car neared Stars Hollow, "Well, what happened?"

Tristan chuckled, "Well, Beau's about to crap himself, and I'm personally about to have a heart attack. We both swear hyperventilation at that point. Luckily, the wheels weren't completely over the roof. So I ease the car back in reverse and park it. When classes were let out, Sergeant Hessler goes to his parking space, ready to go and finds the spot empty. Then he turns and spots it atop of the science building."

Rory clutched her sides, shaking with laughter, "What did he do?"

Tristan smirked with nostalgia, "He just about popped a vein and hauled me and Beau into the Commandant's office. At first, Commandant Mitchell didn't believe us, but then he walked outside, saw Hessler's car on the roof, and completely busted out laughing. He said as bad as our actions were, and that they did warrant disciplinary actions, he couldn't punish us for such an impressive display of ingenuity…"

Rory smiled as Tristan eased his SUV into a parking space in front of Luke's. Shooting a glance his way, Rory shook her head, "I thought military school was supposed to reform you, Tristan."

Tristan grinned, chuckling heartily, "It did. I'm not a jackass, right?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "You still are prone to those tendencies but essentially, no."

Tristan nudged her playfully, "Well, then that certainly disproves that theory." He ambled down the sidewalk, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, "There's nothing wrong with stirring up a bit of mischief, is there, Mary?"

Rory scowled, "Easy on the 'Mary,' Tristan, or I just might retract that last compliment."

"Kinda backhanded praise, if you ask me, Gilmore." Tristan chided.

"Better than the insults we used to exchange, Dugrey," Rory countered, laughter shining in her light cerulean gaze at their lighthearted repartee. She loved their verbal jousting, his rapid tongue and sharp mind forcing her quickest wit and strongest retorts to emerge. No one had ever challenged her the way Tristan did, and in more ways than one.

Tristan held up his hands in surrender, not demurring his defeat in the least, "Yeah, I concede with that statement. I can't say I missed those."

The pair looked up as Riley and Paris approached, locked in a heated debate, their gazes fixated in the latter's eyes. Even with the severity both of tenor and attitude, no one could disregard the sense that Riley and Paris mutually and thoroughly enjoyed their argument. Rory and Tristan watched with amusement as they stood toe-to-toe, Riley glowering down at the smaller Paris.

"How could you possibly discredit Fitzgerald's genius? Is _The Great Gatsby_ not considered one of America's finest novels? Is there no merit to his greatness?"

Paris snorted, "'Greatness?' Wow, greatness sure has diminished in its standards if we choose to exalt a man who spent his days lavishly spending his money and getting into all kinds of illegal mischief with his loony of a wife."

Riley bristled, "So you're disregarding the absolute poetry of his written word? Does the fact that his accurate portrayal of the life and times of a twenties man is unparalleled not have any significance?"

Tristan stepped in, separating the two before bodily harm was inflicted, "Easy, guys. We all need to be alive by tomorrow morning."

Riley and Paris softened considerably, yielding for the moment. Tristan shook his head at the oddity of the pair. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that the vibrant and impulsive Riley would go for the straight-laced and structured Paris. Tristan shrugged, he pictured his best friend with someone more feisty and vivacious, with just as an effervescent spirit as the one Riley possessed, matching his best friend in his unabashed audacity. Glancing at the dancing sapphire gaze of Rory Gilmore, Tristan sighed. He knew as well as anyone that you never knew when Cupid's arrow would meet its mark.

- - -

Luke glanced up as the quartet of teenagers entered his diner. His eyes narrowed slightly as he spotted Tristan striding in step with Rory, one arm slung casually across her shoulders. His expression softened as she leaned into his gesture, laughing heartily as he leaned in to whisper a message in her ear. He had never seen Rory this happy, even with that punk-ass Dean. Luke's gaze shifted to the side as his nephew made the rounds, coffee pot in hand. He cocked an eyebrow as Jess stiffened visibly, casting occasional glances towards the quartet seated at a table. Luke shook his head. He of all people could understand the allure of the Gilmore girls; he had succumbed a long time ago. But he also considered Rory like a daughter, and his surrogate daughter with his delinquent nephew didn't exactly tickle his fancy.

- - -

"What can I get you?"

The four teens glanced up from their conversation as Jess approached the table, pad in hand. Rory averted her glance from Tristan to smile at Jess.

"Hey, Jess, how are you?"

The dark-haired boy shrugged shortly, the habitually sarcastic aura to his expression mitigating slightly as he locked eyes with Rory, "I'm okay."

Rory gestured to her companions, "Tristan Dugrey, Riley Beaumont, Paris Gellar, this is Jess Mariano, Luke's nephew."

Tristan extended a hand, "Nice to meet you."

Jess grasped it firmly, looking his contender up and down with an appraising eye. He cocked an eyebrow, "You that guy who gave Beanstalk the shiner?"

Tristan couldn't help but smirk with self-satisfaction, "Yeah."

Jess' mouth twitched as he contemplated the kid in front of him. From the gossip running rampant through Stars Hollow, Dean had made Rory choose between dropping this Tristan guy or dropping him. Considering the Bean currently stalked around Stars Hollow with an undeviating scowl affixed on his face, Jess could decipher the end result to that confrontation. He weighed his options: he could be civil to this Tristan character and possibly win over Rory or he assert his relationship with her and risk bodily harm over Tristan's apparently protective temperament concerning Rory. Taking in the strapping muscles prominently displayed beneath the fabric of his polo shirt, Jess shrugged, yielding to the situation. Tristan had to be pretty significant to Rory - or at least was getting to that stage - if she dumped Dean over him, and the guy couldn't be all that bad if he punched out Dean.

"Nice. No one liked him, anyway."

Rory gave a soft sound of indignation, "Hey! What does that say about me?"

Jess snorted, "Oh, nothing, Rory. Nothing at all."

"Just that you have a horrible taste in guys," Tristan teased, smirking at the brunette beside him.

Rory's mouth fell open in astonishment as she reached over, socking Tristan solidly in the arm, "Jerk! I would think so considering you're my friend."

Tristan grinned, "Ah, the female majority would deviate keenly, my dear."

Rory rolled her eyes, "That's because they were too drunk, too stoned, or too well-paid to say otherwise."

Jess cut into the conversation, not particularly favoring the obvious chemistry sparked between Rory and Tristan, "Uh, do you guys actually want something to eat?"

Rory jumped slightly as though she just realized her company. A blush spread across her cheeks at Jess' inquisitive glance, "Oh! Sorry, Jess. I'll have my usual."

Jess swiveled to Tristan, fighting to mask the antagonism he felt to the tall blonde, "And you?"

Tristan gestured to Riley, "Riley and I'll have a hamburger, fries and a coffee."

Paris pored over the menu, "Salad, light on the dressing, shredded carrots sprinkled on top, no croutons, and a light dash of garbanzo beans if you have them."

Jess snorted, "Anything else?"

Paris glanced up, "And iced water with a pinch of lemon."

"Would you like a side order of persnickety with that?" Jess snarked, cocking one eyebrow in amusement.

"No, but keep going and I would be happy to serve _you_ a main course of my foot up your ass." Paris retorted.

Jess smirked, "I'll be right back."

Rory watched him go. Her brow furrowed as his back disappeared into the store room without so much as a backward glance. Normally, Jess didn't interact much with any of the customers, but he always went out of his way to at least annoy her. But recently, he was acting weirder than usual, even more detached to human contact and twice as much indifferent to all around him. Rory couldn't pinpoint the catalyst in this weird conversion of attitude, and she wasn't sure of its source. He had definitely been more distant lately, ever since Tristan's fight with Dean on the gazebo, and more than once, he had brushed off her attempts at conversation. She couldn't help the frown that spread across her face as his reappeared from the store room, irritably wrenching aside the curtain. What was with Luke's broody, dark-haired nephew?

Rory started, jerked from her contemplations as a rollicking bout of laughter assaulted the table, and her gaze rotated to Tristan beside her. His bright blue eyes twinkled brilliantly, the spheres alive with mirth, and his striking, chiseled features softened into an easy and lazy grin. He had changed so much and in so little time. She grinned as his eyes crinkled at the corners, his head thrown back in raucous hilarity. He still may be the impudent guy he always was and probably always would be, but he was more disciplined, more responsible, and more mature. His audacity was more of playful nostalgia, if anything. Rory shook her head. Tristan Dugrey sure had surprised her in ways she never would have fathomed.

- - -

"And this is Al's Pancake House."

The four teens strolled down the sunlit streets of Stars Hollow proceeding a lively lunch, the only marring point in the easy settings the constant interruptions by Jess. Approaching the window of the establishment, Tristan frowned as he glanced at the menu displayed on the door, "But there's a Mexican theme to the restaurant. I didn't think pancakes were Mexican."

Rory grinned, "Oh, Al is focusing on a more Mexican vibe. Basically, he can't figure out exactly what type of cuisine to serve, so it varies. Last month, it was French food. He'd change the restaurant name but he already had monogrammed napkins."

Riley smirked, peering into the glass, "Sounds like our Media Studies course at the academy."

Tristan chuckled, nodding his head in affirmation, "Yeah, got that right. How many times have they renamed the class?"

Riley shook his head, shrugging sardonically, "Oh, I denno. About five?"  
Paris glanced at the two boys, curiosity tainting her features, "Why? What's wrong with it?"

A grin tilted a corner of his mouth as Tristan's head fell back, a deep laugh his chest shaking with mirth, "Who knows? The administration is a stickler about political correctness especially since we represent part of the United States' Marine Corps. First, the class was simply Computer Class."

Riley picked up the tale, shifting towards the two girls, "But then the administration felt that it didn't broadened the spectrum of the ability of the course so then they changed it to Contemporary Technology."

Tristan continued, "But then it felt that the course didn't pay attention to the past events that led us to where technology has become an integral part of our civilization, so…"

"The administration then renamed the course Media History and Theory." Riley remarked, holding back his laughter.

"However, the course concentrated very little on the actual 'theory' part of the Media History and Theory..." Tristan halted before the group, his arms spread out in a framing gesture.

"So as of the semester's end, the Media History and Theory course is now dubbed simply Media Studies…" Tristan held his hand over his breast flicking an imaginary tear away from the corner of his eye, sniffing dramatically.

"Gosh, what a tale. Hell, I think it just might be able to satisfy the history portion of that Media History and Theory."

Rory laughed, giving him a shove out of their way as the four teens continued along. Tristan stumbled back, grinning. His long strides easily sidling up beside her, Tristan slung a friendly arm around her shoulders. Rory smiled up into his cheerful mug, nudging him with her shoulder. As they approached the Kim's antique store, an impish grin split her face. Shifting to her three companions, Rory hitched her head.

"Are you three ready for the most extreme you're gonna get from Stars Hollow?"

Paris cocked an eyebrow, "You mean more extreme than Taylor?"

Riley smirked, "And Kirk?"

"And Luke?" Tristan concluded.

Rory crossed her arms, "Gosh, you guys make it sound so…"

"What?" Tristan queried, grinning cheekily, "Extreme?"

Rory shook her head, "Wow, using my words against me, Tristan? How unoriginal."

"So what's this 'extreme' domicile you've dragged us to?"

Rory opened the door leading the group into the store, "Kim's Antiques, home of my best friend Lane Kim and her parents."

At the sound of the tiny bell tinkling over the door, a squat Korean lady with a severe face bustled in, surveying the four teenagers with a dubious eye.

"Welcome to Kim's Antiques. How can I help you?"

Rory smiled at Lane's strict mother, "Hi, Mrs. Kim. I'm just showing my friends around. Is Lane here?"

Mrs. Kim glared at Tristan and Riley who shuffled nervously under the unrelenting stares, "You shouldn't be walking around with boys."

Rory nodded vigorously, "Oh yes, Mrs. Kim. I am aware of that. But these two are especially well-disciplined. They attend military school in North Carolina."

Mrs. Kim's harsh glower diminished slightly, "Military school?"

Rory gave another emphatic nod, "Yes. And they are at the top of their class."

Mrs. Kim advanced slowly on the two boys, who shared an uneasy glance between them, "You study Bible?"

Casting a helpless glance over Mrs. Kim's shoulders to Rory who bobbed her head forcefully as a hint, Tristan nodded hesitantly, rocking back on his heels, "Of course, ma'am. It is one of the courses taught at school."

The Korean woman snapped her gaze to Riley, "Is this true?"

"Yes, ma'am. We both do." Riley affirmed, looking as though he would rather face down Luke with a shotgun, "Because Psalm 62 states, 'My soul rests in God alone, from whom comes my salvation.'"

Mrs. Kim contemplated the passage, her surprise carefully veiled. The woman assessed Riley with a suspicious glint still in her eyes, but her harsh demeanor softened slightly. Rory intervened before Mrs. Kim could fire off another question, "Uh, Mrs. Kim. Could we talk to Lane? Riley and Tristan both need to find some good Bible study groups, and we think Lane will know some really good ones."

Mrs. Kim narrowed her eyes, mulling over the two boys for a moment. Responding with a quick jerk of her head, Mrs. Kim rotated, calling up the stairs.

"Lane! Lane! Come here!"

The small Korean girl trumped down the stairs, stopping before her mother, a passive glint to her face, "Yes, Mama?"

Mrs. Kim pursed her lips gesturing to the four teenagers, "These boys are looking for Bible study. Show them to your friends. Maybe they can come to next meeting."

Lane glanced at Rory, sending a pointed look to her best friend that radiated curiosity. Rory shrugged, mouthing, 'You wanna get out or not?' The smallest of smiles flicking across her face, Lane crossed her arms, nodding complacently, "Of course, Mama. Let me just get a jacket."

Mrs. Kim bore down on Tristan and Riley, who backed up slightly at the squat Korean woman, "No hanky panky!"

- - -

"So that's a Tristan?"

Rory glanced over at Riley and Tristan in the corner of the music store, strumming idly on a pair of guitars. In their short acquaintance with Lane, they had managed to charm the small Korean girl over a long debate about obscure punk music from the 1970s and 1980s, the band on Riley's t-shirt ultimately winning her approval much more quickly than their struggle to allow Mrs. Kim to consenting Lane's company. The burgeoning drummer had led the group over to her own abode: the new Stars Hollow music store where Tristan and Riley had charmed Sophie into allowing them to play the instruments displayed, providing, of course, that they bought something from the store. The pair heartily acquiesced, settling on two new guitar straps for Tristan and a new set of distortion pedals for Riley.

"Yeah, that's a Tristan, alright."

Lane whistled softly, "Huh, you failed to mention a Tristan was so delectable. You definitely have my approval."

Rory allowed a smirk to quirk her mouth, "Sorry, but he was so infuriating, he only stirred up feelings of utter abhorrence."

Lane's eyebrows shot skyward as she sent a reproving look to Rory, "Well, apparently those feelings have long since ceased and desisted. Because from this girl's perspective, the only feelings he seems to stirring up are more lusty than anything…"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Please, Lane. Not you too. Tristan and I are just friends."

"Rory," Lane reasoned, "A guy like that, 'friends' is not an option…"

- - -

Rory turned, stuffing an armload of assorted candies into the basket in Tristan's grasp. He staggered slightly under the weight as the bags thumped into the heavily stocked supply Rory chose.

"Geez, Gilmore? Your cavity count must be monstrous…" Tristan muttered, hefting the basket higher in his grip, "How the hell do you keep that girlish figure with all the crap you and your mother tuck in?"

Rory grinned, displaying her straight white teeth, "Simple, Dugrey, a fast metabolism and a certain amount of bribery on my mom's part to our dentist…"

Tristan couldn't help the small smirk he allowed to grace a corner of his mouth, "What, sex?"

Rory rolled her eyes at his quick jump to an innuendo, "No, you perv. Sookie's cookies."

Tristan flashed a small grin, "Gee, isn't that kinda a paradox? A dentist getting bribes in sweets?"

Rory giggled, "Tristan, you gotta know by now, Stars Hollow is far from normal."

The blonde beside her shook his head, "Understatement of the century, Gilmore."

The pair turned to depart, halting abruptly as Tristan collided with a tall figure blocking his path. Raising his eyes to the face of the unsightly blockade, Tristan rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Excuse me, Bag Boy, but your ungainly figure is currently impeding my path to the register."

Dean growled, bearing down on Tristan, "Sorry, Accountant, but I'm stacking boxes in this aisle. You want to go this way, you move me."

Tristan's features eased into his familiar smirk as he clapped his hands in pseudo enthusiasm for the taller boy, "Wow, Bean, I've never heard someone with so much fervor for the box-stacking business. Are you the Senior VP in charge of all boxing operations? What a step up from bagging, isn't it?"

Dean's furious gaze shifted to Rory, "So much for friends, huh? So how long until you're another notch in his bedpost?"

At the flicker of hurt crossing Rory's face, Tristan's easy features darkened as he squared up to Dean, "You might wanna watch your mouth, Forrester. I'm more than delighted to reenact last Friday's confrontation. Who knows? I just might break something this time around. Wanna add a dental bill to the medical one?"

"What's going on here?"

Tristan's expression failed to soften as Taylor appeared at Dean's shoulder, "You might wish to rein in your stock boy, Mr. Doose, before I inflict some damage on his unpleasant visage. I'm surprised you stand for your employees insulting your customers."

Taylor glanced at Dean then over to Rory. Shaking his head, the portly man hitched a thumb to the store room, "Dean, I think it's best if we move you over to inventory. That's the second time I've had complaints. You know our motto here." Taylor shot a pointed look to Dean, prompting his response.

Dean shuffled, mumbling the words, his tone disgruntled, "'Here at Doose's the customer is our concern.'"

Taylor clapped a jovial hand on Dean's back, "Excellent. Remember that. Now, off to the stock room with you. We'll have Wesley finish stacking."

Tristan dropped his eyes as Dean yanked open the curtain to the stock room, storming inside. Shifting an uncomfortable gaze to Rory, he cleared his throat.

"It's not true, you know."

Rory nodded, catching his meaning, "I know, Tristan. You're not known for your patience. If you had wanted only that, you wouldn't have waited."

Tristan smiled tightly as his heart constricted at her words. Leave it to Rory Gilmore to put so much faith and trust in him. This girl was so kind of amazing…

- - -

"_Old School_? _National Lampoon's Van Wilder_? Riley, what the hell are these movies?"

Hefting an exasperated sigh, Riley pinched the bridge of his nose, "For the millionth time, Paris. I'm simply following Lorelai's preferences."

Paris grimaced, "God, these movies are seriously deteriorating whatever brain cells I still possess."

Riley snapped his fingers, "Aw, shucks. Now I'm gonna have to fall back on your looks as a source of attraction."

Paris glanced uneasily at the boy beside her, "Why are you?"

"Huh?"

Paris rolled her eyes, "Eloquent, Beaumont." Taking a deep breath, she reiterated her query, "Why are you so interested in me?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "Questioning my intentions, Paris?"

The blonde shook her head, "Guys like you don't go for girls like me…excuse me for doubting."

Riley contemplated his answer for a moment, "Well, this guy isn't like other guys, and he knows what he likes. You just happen to fit my partiality."

Paris shook her head, "That's illogical."

Riley snorted, "Since when has love been logical? Passion doesn't comply to set rules and regulations like you do, Paris. It strikes as unpredictably as lightening and just as fast. Emotions can't be sorted out and organized like school work. You can't think with your head, Paris. You just have to feel."

Without warning, Riley darted in, crushing his lips to Paris'. Caught by surprise, she drew back slightly, only to drag him back down in another torrid lip lock. The world slowed around them, swirling into a mixture of colors and sounds as their senses went haywire with the sparks flowing between them. Against her volition, Paris' arms had slid up Riley's t-shirt-encased chest to snake around his neck, and he drew her into his embrace between muscled arms. As the need for oxygen brought them back to reality, they parted. Riley gazed down into her brown eyes, darkened from the onslaught of passion. His own pewter orbs sparked with their trademark intensity, searching hers.

"Don't you dare tell me you didn't feel that."

A wry grin worked its way across her face as Paris smirked, "I'll tell you one thing, I did feel you bite my lip one time in there."

Riley grinned, swooping down to ghost a kiss across her lips, "So no swooning, no weak-in-the-knees sensation? I feel so let down…"

Paris let out an uncharacteristic giggle, "Kiss it and make it better?"

Smiling widely, Riley obliged.

- - -

"_They can take our lives, but they can never take our freedom!"_

Tristan clutched his sides as laughter rolled through his body. Once the group had pried Riley and Paris away from each other, they had rented a slew of random movies, ranging from the classics, to the not-so memorables, to the straight-up tankers. Having worked their way through _Sixteen Candles_, _Men in Black_, and _Lilo and Stitch_, they were now onto _Bravehart_. Seized with inspiration, Lorelai and Rory had bounded atop of the Gilmore couch and were reciting Mel Gibson's closing speech with as much gusto as they could manage. Tears trailed down Riley's face as he pounded the ground, and even Paris had abandoned her schoolwork and was fighting to hold back a giggle.

"Lorelai, get down. The couch might collapse beneath you two."

The two Lorelai's halted in their Scottish-brogued warbling glaring heavily down at Tristan.

Lorelai thrust a finger into his face, her features twisted into a playfully affronted expression, "Aye, lad! You dare to provoke the wrath of the clan of Gilmore?"

Rory joined her mother, the two Gilmores bearing down on the unassuming Dugrey, "You have insulted the sanctity of the land of the Crap Shack!"

Lorelai grasped a pillow, hoisting the cushion high above her head, "War! Lad! War!" Swinging the pillow down, she began plummeling Tristan mercilessly. Groping for his own weapon, Tristan managed to grab onto his own pillow, flinging it in a general direction. Riley yelped as the projectile caught him square on the nose, and he leaped to his feet.

"Oh, now it's on."

After a lengthy clouting of Tristan, the three teens and Lorelai rotated in unison to the single person not participating in the activity. Paris blanched at the identical smirks of mischief snaking across each face.

"Oh no you don't!"

With a simultaneous war cry, her four companions converged, swarming the hapless blonde. Rory stayed back, smiling at the melee. She couldn't help but be amazed how well Tristan, and Riley for that matter, had fit into her life here in Stars Hollow. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought Tristan Dugrey would have embraced the quirky nature of her home, but he did, and Rory couldn't help but be endeared. Her contemplations quickly diverged as a soft white pillow smacked into her face, and she glared at the offending party.

"Tristan, your ass is mine!"

- - -

_"Before you go, can I ask you a question?"_

_"Shoot."_

_"When was the last time you were kissed? I mean truly, truly, good 'n kissed?"_

_"…Dave Gammelgard. New Year's Eve. Sixty-one."_

_"…Okay…"_

Two movies later, Rory glanced to her left as the end notes of _That Thing You Do!_ faded into the television screen. Her mother had long ago gone up to bed, warning the four teens of the consequences if any not-so moral instances were to occur. Paris was curled up in the corner of an armchair, and Tristan had splayed himself out on the couch, his arms flopping over the sides as the small sofa failed to accommodate his tall frame. His long legs dangled over the edge of the armrest, and his chest rose in steady breaths, his soft snores easing through the air. Rory studied his sleeping figure as the long, luscious lashes fanned across his ruddy cheeks, his full, pouty lips parted slightly. Her eyes drifted up to the barely-there bristles where his once unruly and famously tousled locks sat atop his head. She took in the relaxed lines of his face, lacking the intensity that always seemed to be shrouded behind his easy demeanor. Glancing around the room, she noticed one figure was absent from their party, and she wandered out the front door to see where he had disappeared off to.

- - -

Riley lounged against the porch steps of the Gilmore house, his steady pewter gaze focused on the endless abyss of black velvet dotted with tiny specks of brilliance scattered across the great chasm. Up above his head, a full sphere of fluorescent radiance studied the world below, and Riley simply stared back.

"What are you doing out here?"

Riley's eyes shifted to Rory's curious azure spheres, and a corner of his mouth curved upward, "Just excavating the wonders of the unknown universe, Miss Gilmore."

One dubious eyebrow shot skyward, "Really?"

Riley's grin widened as he shook his head, "Well, if you wish to perceive it that way. Or you could say I'm just looking at the stars."

Rory smiled down at the boy beside her, "Wouldn't it be easier to just say that?"

Riley chuckled, "Well, Rory, considering you and I are both deemed as remarkably bright people, I would hate to insult your intelligence."

Rory studied the laid-back and vivacious Riley, his effortless grin adorning his face, "You are some kind of different, Riley Beaumont."

Riley laughed, cocking his head at his fellow brunette beside him, "You know, people keep telling me that. What exactly makes me different? I'm just Riley Beaumont. What's so different about me?"

Rory shrugged, "I don't know…you're just easy to talk to, easy to like. You're so embracing and open. There's something about you that isn't like guys our age. You're, I don't know, deeper. More profound, multifaceted, if you will. You just seem to understand everything, comprehend knowledge readily, and you know your opinions and where you stand. There isn't anyone I know who is more secure about themselves than you are."

Riley let out a mirthless laugh, "Yeah, well, when you have a father who's anticipating your imminent failure, you have to find a sense of self-security to survive. But believe me, I'm just as flawed as anyone. Maybe even more deeply than you might realize. I just understand my flaws better and handle them differently. As for being deep, my life gives me an unusual perspective, that's all. This profundity you allude to is simply my existence from my end of the spectrum…"

Rory digested that information, thinking heavily. She stood by her first assertion. Riley Beaumont was some kind of different. He had mentioned having flaws, and he wasn't like all the other people she had come across. There was an extraordinary kind of spirit coursing through his conscious; one that allowed him to shine a bit brighter than all of his cohorts. Rory could see why Tristan respected him so much. Thinking about her former tormentor currently spread-eagled across her living room couch, Rory frowned slightly, "Riley?"

"Hmm…?" The brilliant gray eyes flicked in her direction, twinkling warmly.

"W-was Tristan always…"

Riley lofted an amused eyebrow, "Like he is now?" At Rory's sheepish nod, he chuckled, his head shifting in the negative, "No. Hardly so."

Rory frowned, "Really?"

Riley couldn't help but laugh, his face adopting an air of nostalgia, "Yep. When he first arrived at Amherst, about ten seconds out of plebe – new cadet – camp, TJ almost got into a fight with the three most brutish guys in our year. Yours truly had to save his behind from a month respite in the infirmary. He denies he needed my help, though. I tried to be nice to him, but you know Tristan. He's stubborn as a mule and resisted. At first, we hated each other. TJ was the quintessential blue-blood we lodge habitually at Amherst: bitter, resolute, defiant, and I had little patience for him. He resisted the academy and fought tooth and nail when he first came."

Rory's eyes had widened, and she fidgeted, "So what made him change?"

A thoughtful expression wormed across Riley's face, "The way TJ tells it, it was something like this…"

**_Tristan stalked into his barracks, caked from head to toe in mud due to three times through Amherst's three-mile mud course punishment. Yanking off his t-shirt, Tristan flung the garment into his laundry bag, cursing bitterly beneath his breath. Emerging from the shower, cleansed and change, he ran into the solid body of Riley Beaumont. The taller boy cocked an eyebrow at the new fish that had come into his barracks only a few weeks before._**

_**"Geez, Dugrey, what stick's shoved up your ass?"**_

_**"Shove it, Beaumont. I don't need any of your crap."**_

_**Riley shook his head, "Screwing up isn't gonna get you anywhere, Dugrey."**_

**_Tristan barked out a bitter laugh, "Who the hell cares where I go? My father shipped me down her so he didn't have to deal with me. Better that Tristan screws up where Hartford's society can't catch wind of it."_**

**_Riley snorted, "Wow, Dugrey, what a theory. But has your cynical, decadent ass even contemplated the flip side?" At Tristan's blank stare, Riley tapped the side of his head._**

**_"Think about it, Dugrey. Who knows who you were before? Hell, who even gives a damn who you were before? Right now, you're given a chance to become what you want yourself to be. Daddy's not here, and his wealth and prestige means jackshit to anyone out here." Riley threw out his palms._**

**_"Don't you get it? You have the option to take whatever doubt your father has and shove it right back in his face. You're starting all over. Right now, you're just a nametag with no identity. You get the opportunity to make that name famous or infamous. It's your choice."_**

**_Riley's voice softened, "You talk about that girl who never gave you a second look. Here, you have the opportunity to make something out of yourself. What you do here could just earn you that second look. You're getting another chance." Riley's clear gray eyes met Tristan's steadily. _**

_**"So why not take it?"**_

_**Tristan's eyes plummeted to the ground as he mulled over Riley's words. The thought nagged at him as he turned it over in his mind. Did Riley have a point? But even if he did, would Tristan be able to accomplish it?**_

Riley rubbed a hand over his shaved head, "He'll tell you, I'm the one that kicked some sense into him, and I don't refute that I did call him out, but it's not entirely true." Riley shrugged, "I may have shoved him in the right direction, but what he did with my shove was all him."

Rory hugged her knees to her chest, "You two care a lot for each other, don't you?"

Riley nodded, "Yeah. Of course, in a completely non-sexual way. Believe me, we've both gotten the inquiry more than once. He's my best friend and as close as a brother as I'm gonna get." Riley quirked a dry grin.

"When you find a kindred spirit, friendship just comes easily…sort of."

Riley's eyes traveled to Rory's, and he hesitated before venturing a question, "Hey, Rory?"

The younger Lorelai swiveled her head to the boy beside her, "Yeah?"

"Whatever happens between you two, don't doubt Tristan's intentions."

Rory frowned, thinking over Riley's words. Without a second thought, she nodded her consent, "Okay."

Riley returned her nod in satisfaction, and together, the two sat back to gaze at the stars.

- - -

Tristan hefted his carry on bag higher onto his shoulder as he trudged through the Hartford airport. The bright Sunday morning light filtered through the open windows. His parents had deemed a social gathering more important than his departure, so they had extended their tidings at breakfast that morning, leaving Janlan Dugrey and Gerard, the Dugrey family chauffer, to deposit himself and Riley at the Hartford airport.

His eyes swiveled in the direction of his best friend, and the two boys shared contented smiles. Tristan absorbed the ambiance of his surroundings. The last time he had stomped through the Hartford airport on his way to North Carolina, he was, in essence, no one; a delinquent brat who had nothing to his name, dwelling on the haunting words of a girl who had never looked his way. This time was different. He ambled through the many dignitaries and civilians with a purpose to his step and a light-heartedness to the events that had transpired over the last week.

"Riley! Tristan!"

Tristan turned, and his bright blue eyes lit up in surprise as a whirl of brown hair came rushing in his direction. Dropping his bag, Tristan held out his arms, staggering back as Rory flew into his embrace. Hugging her tightly, Tristan breathed in her heady scent, savoring her petite frame in his hold. Pulling back, Rory threw out a smirk.

"You didn't think I'd let you leave without gracing you with my presence, did you?"

Tristan grinned, laughing appreciatively as his arms tightened around her waist, "Why, Gilmore, what would your mother think if she knew how much I was influencing you? That, my dear, is classic Tristan Dugrey egotism."

Rory giggled, "I do admit that you've grown on me, Dugrey. Why I let you do so is so beyond my comprehension, however."

"Could it be my devastating good looks?" Tristan ventured, the delighted smile at her presence without inhibition.

Rory rolled her eyes, "Well, it sure couldn't be your lack of arrogance."

Tristan leaned in, touching his forehead to hers, "Not arrogance, Mary, just confidence."

- - -

Riley smiled at his two friends as they embraced. Turning to depart, he halted when a summon reached his ears. Rotating, he grinned as Paris Gellar shuffled forward, a hesitant smile to her face.

"Hi."

Riley smirked, "Come to concede defeat at the brilliance of Fitzgerald?"

Paris snorted, responding with a toss of her head, "Hardly. Would you settle for a send-off?"

Riley advanced on Paris, stealthily slipping an arm around her waist. A soft smile decorated his handsome face as he leaned in, "Depends how well you send me off…"

Snaking her arms around his neck, Paris craned her neck upward, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. Wrapping her even tighter to his body, Riley drew back, a contemplative light to his eyes.

"Paris, do me a favor?"

The blonde nodded, gazing questioningly into his pale pewter spheres, "Of course."

Riley hesitated, glancing away slightly as he attempted to gather his thoughts, "Don't…don't wait for me."

Paris recoiled slightly, stepping out of his arms, "What?"

Riley ran a frustrated hand through the lack of hair on his head, "It's just…I don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me. We have a good five states separating us, and I couldn't live with myself if I denied you of anything as important as a relationship."

"You don't have another girl somewhere, do you?" Paris demanded, squaring up to him.

Riley chuckled, "Considering Amherst is an all-boys' school, it's a safe bet to say no." Gently cradling her cheek, pleased that she didn't resist, Riley brushed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"If some amazing guy comes by and sweeps you up, I don't you to refute that opportunity because you feel compelled to me."

Laying her head on his chest, Paris consented, her arms around his waist. Riley ghosted his lips across her forehead, "This isn't the end of us, Paris. It's just the intermission."

Paris nodded into the fabric of his jacket, "Did it even begin?"

Riley shrugged, "Not quite, but maybe it will, eventually…"

Paris smiled sadly, raising her eyes to his, "Maybe when we see each other again, Beaumont, we just might agree Fitzgerald's an idiot."

Riley's chest rumbled with his laughter, "Keep dreaming, Gellar…keep dreaming."

- - -

Rory pulled him down for another hug, laying her cheek to his, "Keep in touch, Tristan. I'd really prefer if Riley didn't steal your letters because you've 'neglected' to send them."

Tristan dipped his head down, nodding sheepishly, "Yeah, yeah. I will. But you've gotta promise to write back."

Rory grinned, sighing in mock exasperation, "I still don't get why e-mail is not an option. It would be so much easier."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "Are you kidding me? It's so much more romantic if I send you tidings and sweet nothings by the written word. The best writers got their gals that way…"

Rory laughed, "All the same, don't forget to call and write. I don't know how I'll be able to function without my daily dose of Tristan-induced sarcasm."

"I'll leave a message on your voicemail daily so you'll never be without my scathing wit." Tristan promised, his lazy grin flitting across his face. With one last hug, the two pulled away.

"You're not gonna forget me, are you, Gilmore?"

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "An ego like that? Kinda hard not to, Dugrey."

He chortled at her teasing tone, "I'll take it."

The two boys backed through security with a final wave, and Rory sidled up to Paris, linking her arm through the other girl's.

"What a weekend, eh, Paris?"

Paris sighed, her eyes fixated on Riley's departing back, "Got that right, Gilmore. We've got two surprises on our hands."

Rory shook her head, delving deep into her psyche. Surprises indeed. If someone had told her Tristan Dugrey would unexpectedly appear back into her life, reformed and improved, her reaction would have been typical to any interaction with the King of Chilton: a derisive snort and a roll of her eyes. Funny how everything played out in the end, however. In the duration of Tristan's leave, he had managed to astonish her in multiple ways. At the end of his week-long stay, Rory's life had shifted to a spectrum that caught her completely unawares. She could now call Dean her ex, Jess interested, Riley a new friend, and Tristan…she couldn't exactly categorize this new Tristan Dugrey. He was once her tormentor, and he was definitely her friend, that remained certain. But what kind of friend, exactly? Rory pondered that query. Whatever Tristan Dugrey was, she had a feeling he was well on his way to becoming an exponential facet to her future.

_Yeesh, another long one…perhaps the longest yet. As I said, this is the final high-school-themed chapter as the next one is graduation! We will get to meet Riley's family and have some sick tension there, and Tristan will catch up with our favorite Gilmores on the happenings in Stars Hollow…The next chapter has a few flashbacks. Just a heads-up: Jess won't be too prominent in this story. Unfortunately, he isn't that essential of a character. He is mentioned, and he will show up from time to time, but this is purely a Trory. The Jess/Rory relationship will not be a prevalent factor. Don't get me wrong, I love Jess – something about those bad boys – but it was difficult fitting him into this story… Sorry if that's disappointing…! I honestly tried._

_Roxy_


	6. From My Lips, the Words I Choose to Say

**Disclaimer: **_We have established the fact I own nothing._

_Well, my lovely readers. We have reached the conclusion of the Chilton years. As promised, Riley gets a little heartache, we get a look into his family situation, and our Fab Four graduate from their respective high-schools. I'm touching on three speeches here (Riley's, Tristan's, and Rory's) and I hope you like this chapter._

_Tally ho!_

**Chapter 6**

_From My Lips, the Words I Choose to Say_

"**_This is a boy who came to Amherst way back in the seventh grade. As quickly as he arrived, he became a model student to what we at Amherst strive to produce, rising quickly through the ranks to become Battalion Commander for the academy as well as a Cadet Colonel. Ladies and gentlemen, the senior class president, Riley Beaumont."_**

"…The days we shared here at Amherst were trying, toiling, and I would put another word in that began with a 't' to keep up this streak of alliteration but really the best description I can put at the finale of this list begins with a different letter. The days here at Amherst were absolutely amazing. True the mission statement, we all changed for the better, no matter how hard we resisted, keeping a bit of the mischief that got us in here in the first place."

Riley paused, his intense gray eyes sweeping over his many friends and comrades, "But all great things must reach their conclusion. But we leave here with values that will help us along in this so called 'real world' as well as the principles that make us better men for holding them in our possession. We will face whatever challenges come our way, and faithful to the motto we adopted, we will seize the day. _Carpe diem_, boys. Don't let a good thing pass you by."

- - -

Commandant Mitchell paused, an indulgent smile working his way across his weathered face. His hands gripping the stand, Mitchell let out a small bark of laughter.

"I only have the utmost respect and admiration for this young man. He came to us a few weeks into junior year with stellar grades, an antagonistic attitude, and just as much mischief as we've ever seen wrack these halls. But through his short time here, this boy has evolved into a truly upstanding young man and one of the best cadets who have ever walked the grounds here at Amherst. He served as the Executive Officer of our Corps of Cadets, holding the rank of Lieutenant Colonel; he is the captain of our lacrosse team, and a writer for the Amherst newspaper, and most of all, he is a true gentleman. And so, it is my distinct and honest pleasure to present the valedictorian of the class of 2003, Tristan Dugrey."

Tristan ambled up to the platform, his grin splitting his face. Laying out the pages of his speech on the podium, he took a deep breath. His deep sapphire gaze scanning over his audience, and Tristan paused. He could hardly believe he stood at the head of the class of 2003 as its valedictorian instead of lounging in the back of Chilton's graduating class, smoking a cigarette as he readied himself to attend a college he hadn't earned on his own merit. Instead of flunking out of Connecticut, he was on his way to California, an achievement he had accomplished himself. Tristan cleared his throat as he adjusted the microphone.

"Commandant Mitchell, faculty, family, friends, and fellow cadets. I am honored to be here today, and I welcome you to our celebration. We have strived for this day to come, counting the seemingly endless months, weeks and days, until twenty four hours, until twenty four minutes, until twenty four seconds, until now. This is the event we desired would arrive ever since we set foot in Amherst. But now that this day has finally come, that we are finally here, we find it hard to leave. Because venturing outside of Amherst means facing a world beyond the rules, regulations, and structures that we have become accustomed to, and we fear that we simply are not ready for the end." Tristan paused, taking another deep breath.

"But a wise man once said, 'To fear the end is to disregard all that happened to get you there.' Don't get it? Well, I'm still working it out myself. The man was pretty crocked when he said it, and I don't think it'll in any philosophy books any time soon, but that quote stuck with me. You might ask, what idiot said this? Personally, I know for a fact he'd probably inflict bodily harm if he heard himself referred to as an idiot. To be honest, I'm surprised he's not storming the podium. So who is this man that provides us with such innovating enlightenment? Well, none other than our very own Riley Beaumont, and he was right. If we fear what happens once we take that our first steps away from Amherst, we have only placed doubt in ourselves that everything we've learned here and accomplished in our many, few, or not so abundant years has been futile and insignificant. But that is far from the truth. We are leaving Amherst with lessons and knowledge that pertain to where we're going and who we want to be. We embrace the past, dire and ghastly as it may have been, with the knowledge that the past attributed to the men we are today."

Tristan grinned, shaking his head, "I never understood that idea. Not until I came here and met all of you. Not until I met Riley Beaumont. I lived a pretentious life, and who I am now hates who I was then. But the person I was made the person I am today. I know I wouldn't be here before you all, addressing you as valedictorian, if Riley hadn't given me the shove to kick-start my own epiphany. And I know it's not just me he's impacted. Riley Beaumont's the one who gave us the motto that we all use and take to heart, who taught us all why we live another day, and who endowed us with an example of someone whom we aspire to be. It's because of him that I can stand here and honestly say that I'm not the guy I was when I came here…"

- - -

"_**Riley Daniel Beaumont." … "Tristan Janlan Dugrey."**_

His diploma clutched in his hand, Riley glanced over his shoulder. As his name was called, Tristan grasped his own diploma, shaking hands with Commandant Mitchell. Venturing down the steps of the stage, Tristan locked eyes with his best friend, signaling with a nod. Simultaneously, the two slipped out of line, and their fellow cadets shifted the close the gap in the procession. Out of the corner of his eye, Commandant Mitchell caught the movement, shaking his head in slight vexation. Some things never changed.

The commandant stepped up to the podium, "This is without a doubt one of the best senior classes we have had the pleasure of instructing in our over one hundred years of educating men of the future. And so, ladies and gentlemen, I have the honest pleasure of presenting you the Class of 2003!"

At the declaration, an explosive bang resounded through the air, and the crowd gasped as a hail of sparks and confetti sprinkled the air with their brilliance. A large banner unfurled from the building behind the podium, revealing a parting message courtesy of Tristan and Riley:

_CARPE DIEM, CLASS OF '03, SEIZE THE DAY!_

The graduating class allowed their eyes to sweep to the building's roof to find Riley and Tristan, arms raised in victory as the shower of sparks and storm of confetti drifted down on their heads. Both fists pumped in triumph, the notorious pair hollered out in celebration, their voices uniting in an emphatic final memorandum to their departing class as their last prank within the grounds of Amherst Military Academy lit up the bright sky.

"_CARPE DIEM_, BOYS! SEIZE THE DAY! MAKE YOUR LIVES EXTRAORDINARY!"

The audience roared with approval as Tristan and Riley snatched off the mortarboards atop their heads, rearing back to fling the navy squares through in the air. Soon, identical navy mortarboards rained down on the heads of the class of 2003. His stern face red with frustration, Sergeant Hessler leaped up from his seat.

"Beaumont! Dugrey! Get your asses down here! Of all the…!"

Commandant Mitchell chuckled, laying a hand on the sergeant's shoulder, the man a victim of many of Riley and Tristan's pranks, "Easy, Don. Let them celebrate. It's their last day."

Hessler shook his head in exasperation, glancing up at the two boys slapping palms atop the school roof. Unwittingly, a smile worked its way across the sergeant's face, "I'll tell you one thing, Bill, life around here is gonna be a lot less interesting without those two."

- - -

"Tristan."

Tristan turned away from his friends wishing him luck. Rotating, he stiffened as the intimidating figure of his father approached him. Gregory Dugrey's haughty, handsome face was twisted in disgust.

"Well, that was a rather interesting display you and Riley gave us."

Tristan fought the urge to roll his eyes, "It was a fitting send off, Father. A celebration, if you will. I don't see anything wrong with that. You acting like there was something profane on that banner."

Gregory's mouth pursed in annoyance, "I didn't send you to this school, son, so you would indulge in such childish pranks."

"Greg…" Olivia Dugrey tried to reason with her husband.

"Not now, Olivia. It seems our son is not fit to handle himself in an adult manner. Perhaps allowing him to attend Stanford is not the best idea."

"Ah, Tristan. There you are."

The sour expression on Gregory Dugrey's face instantly vanished as his posture relaxed with the arrival of Commandant Mitchell. The dignified officer smiled warmly at Tristan, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Excellent address, Cadet."

Tristan grinned, nodding his head in gratitude, "Thank you, Commandant." He turned to his parents, "Commandant William Mitchell, my father, Gregory Dugrey, my mother, Olivia Dugrey, and my grandfather, Janlan Dugrey."

Commandant Mitchell stuck out his hand, shaking each Dugrey's offering enthusiastically, "Mr. and Mrs. Dugrey, allow me to commend you on such a fine son."

Gregory Dugrey hid his surprise well, "Excuse me, Commandant?"

Mitchell nodded his head in earnest, "We have never had such a brighter student at Amherst with such a great potential for doing well. He and Cadet Beaumont have surely set an unprecedented standard for the type of cadet we would like to continue to graduate here at Amherst." Mitchell shifted to Tristan.

"You are always welcome back here, Tristan. Come and visit any time you wish." Commandant Mitchell let a grin splay across his face.

"And I must say, that was a very entertaining show you put on, Dugrey. I haven't seen Sergeant Hessler that shade of red since…"

Tristan smirked, "Since he found his car parked on the roof of the science building?"

Commandant Mitchell chuckled, "Yes, since then." He proffered his hand, which Tristan grasped strongly, "Take care of yourself, Tristan, and good luck at Stanford."

Tristan smiled warmly at the commandant, nodding his head, "I will, sir. And thanks for taking a chance on me."

Mitchell shook his head, "I only gave the chance, Tristan. What you chose to do with that chance was all your prerogative."

As Mitchell departed, Tristan turned back to his father, fighting to allow the smug look to spread across his face. Gregory Dugrey cleared his throat, begrudgingly fixing his suit jacket.

"I suppose you have done well here, son. I'm proud of you."

Tristan shifted at his father's stiff and formal tone, meeting Gregory's eyes directly, "Well, I guess there is really a first time for everything."

Gregory coughed, "Well, son. We must be going. The flight leaves in fifty minutes, and your bags are already in the car."

Tristan hitched a thumb back to the lingering cadets, "I'll be there in ten minutes. I need to talk to Riley first."

His father nodded curtly, "We'll have the driver come back for you. Ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Janlan stopped, wrapping his grandson in a warm embrace. Cradling Tristan's cheeks in his palms, the elder Dugrey smiled fondly at the young man.

"I'm proud of you, m'boy."

Tristan glanced up at his grandfather, "Thanks, Pop."

Turning him around, Janlan gave his grandson a gentle shove, "Go on. I'll meet you in the car."

Grinning at his grandfather, Tristan turned and headed back onto the grounds that served as better home in two years than the house in Harford had in a lifetime.

- - -

Riley released Brandon Knox from a big bear hug as his ears perked up at the sound of his name. Rotating to the summons, the large, exhilarated grin that had splayed across his face faded as the one person he never expected to show up at his graduation strode in his direction, a smile on his handsome face.

"Dad?"

Christian Beaumont halted, his arms spread in greeting, his green eyes twinkling with fictitious affection, his tousled hair blowing in the wind. Riley glanced down at the gesture, not moving towards his father. Christian lowered his arms as Riley's brow furrowed, regarding his father with suspicion.

"What are you doing here?"

Christian's grin widened as the man spread his hands in a shrug, "What? A man can't see his son graduate?"

Riley's gaze flicked over his father's shoulder as his stepmother and half-brother approached, "You brought your wife? What is this a family outing? Sorry, but there's no press here to capture this wonderfully candid family moment."

A frown marred Christian Beaumont's attractive face, "Geez, son. You're acting like I need a reason to be here."

Riley snorted with derision, glancing away in disbelief. His gray eyes bore into his father's, the normally warm and welcoming shine harsh and detached, "You haven't called in two years, haven't sent a letter in three, and I haven't seen you face-to-face in five. What, so I'm your son now that I haven't screwed up here? I wasn't your son when Mom left. I wasn't your son when I stole that car." Riley cocked a dry eyebrow, "Hm, interesting conditions placed on affection nowadays. I guess unconditional love is so 1950s." Riley shook his head, a mock remorseful expression on his face.

"You mean I'm not a worthless bastard anymore? Because if I remember correctly, wasn't that the term you referred to me as when I first boarded the plane to Amherst?"

Christian glanced away, a short laugh attempting to brush off the situation, "Riley, I never called you that."

"Well, I guess we just recall that day differently, don't we? I distinctly reminisce about you shoving your finger in my face threatening that if I 'fucked up' here, it was off to juvie and you'd disown me." Riley cupped his chin, tilting his head in contemplation.

"But how do you remember it, Dad? Did you cry, slap me affectionately on the back proceeding a hug, and tell me this was all for the best?" A corner of Riley's mouth curved upward in a sardonic grin.

"Yeah, you would remember it like that. After all, wouldn't want your sterling image to be tarnished in any way. Just like when Mom left. You told the tabloids she cheated on you. However, I distinctly remember it was the other way around."

Christian Beaumont's face contorted sourly as he advanced on his son, "Listen, you ungrateful little –"

"What, you're gonna go all parental on me?" Riley jeered, glaring down at his father, "News flash, you're about seventeen years too late." Smirking at his father as Christian attempted to stare down his son but failing as he withered under Riley's intense gray eyes, Riley sneered.

"You honestly think you scare me? That just seeing you invokes an utmost terror that floods through my veins? What are you gonna do, _Dad_, discipline me? Raise your hand to me? Ground me? Since when do you care?" Riley's expression was calm, almost cold and aloof in its detachment.

"The only reason you're here is so that you can whisk me back to LA and parade me around to your celebrity friends, showing off how your delinquent son reformed himself while boasting that it was your idea in the first place. Then, you're gonna groom me like a little guinea pig to take over the family business. Daddy's little spitfire in the office. You pull the string, I jump." Riley scoffed.

"That's never gonna happen."

Christian bristled, annoyed at the fact his son didn't seem to fear him one bit, "I am still - "

"My father?" Riley finished, his tone sarcastic, intentionally mocking Christian. As his tall, six-three frame towered over his shorter dad by a good two inches, Riley shook his head bitterly, his deep voice steady and firm, seething with a quiet confidence and resignation of an emotion long closed.

"You gave up any claim you ever had on me the minute you put my ass on a plane to North Carolina. Granted, I should thank you, that was about the only good parenting you've ever done. But don't take credit to everything else. All that was me. You had nothing to do with that. Hell, this wasn't even to prove you wrong. That's what eats you the most, isn't it? You figured I'd screw up here and come home a nothing." Riley smirked.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Let's ride in the ole time machine and go back to you. At about this time, Christian Beaumont almost flunked out of high school, and it took some bribery on Grandpa Beaumont's part to get him into the only college that would accept him, one that doesn't even exist any more. Then, by sheer luck, Grandpa Beaumont hires his son, Christian Beaumont, as a puppet to face his blooming advertising and marketing agency that, luckily, turns into such a conglomerate that Christian doesn't have to do jack but a few publicity appearances to keep up the image." Riley flicked an imaginary tear, "Wow, I am just _weepy_ with nostalgia."

"Now let's fast forward to now. Riley Beaumont graduates the toughest military academy in the nation as a salutatorian and the highest-ranked cadet in the senior class. Consequently, four Ivy League colleges – namely Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Cornell, plus Stanford – all accept him on both academic and athletic scholarships, and to top it all off, a collection of Riley's short stories, that you claimed to be a waste of time, are set to be published by the summer. Hm…" Riley cocked his head questioningly at his father, "So _I'm_ supposed to be the failure? I've done more in eighteen years than you'll ever do in your lifetime."

Riley shook his head in repulsion, backing away from the man given the title of his father, "I'm eighteen now, Dad. Legally, you have nothing on me. Not like you ever did." Riley's face hardened, his gray eyes steeling with bitter resolve.

"From this day on, I'm never gonna think of you again. You will never even cross my mind. The only reason I'll ever mention you is to mock how your callous disregard fueled my desire to shove everything right back in your face. I'm dead to you, and you were dead to me a long time ago. But I know you're gonna regret every day that passes, knowing what I could have done for your reputation. You should have listened to Uncle Chase. He did tell you I was gonna be worth something one day; I just needed to bloom. So you want your little golden boy?" Riley hitched his head to his half-brother, "Use Adam. Because unlike you, I'm gonna make it on my own." Riley chuckled, snapping his fingers in recognition.

"Oh, wait. I already did…"

Riley turned, his long legs taking him away from his father. With each step, the burden encumbering his chest slowly lessened. Riley closed the chapter of his past that contained his father without a backward glance, despite Christian's furious summons. He inhaled deeply, his long-turmoiled heart at ease. Raising his eyes to the heavens, Riley felt the sun's warm rays wash over his body, and a genuine smile split his handsome face, devoid of restraint. _That was for you, Uncle Chase_. He halted in front of Tristan, grinning widely. His best friend allowed his eyes to flick over to Christian Beaumont.

"You tying up some loose ends, Beau?"

Riley snorted, "More like severing the excess baggage."

Tristan winced slightly, "Ouch…"

Riley waved a dismissive hand, "Don't worry about it. I'm just finally free of my dad…not that he was much of a dad to begin with."

Tristan nodded, "Yeah. I got that…so what's on your agenda until our trip around Europe?"

Riley shrugged, "New York and go see my…Mom?"

Tristan swiveled as Riley's attention snapped over his shoulder, and his gaze fell on a tall, beautiful woman, her lively eyes the same shade of pale gray as Riley's. Riley rushed forward, engulfing the woman in an exuberant embrace, a far cry from the cold, stoic demeanor he had adopted with his father. Pulling back, Riley shook his head in shock.

"What are you doing here?"

Hannah Taylor, formerly Hannah Beaumont, beamed an audacious smile that matched her son's impish grin, "Is that any way to greet your mother, Riley Daniel?"

Riley chuckled, "It's better than 'hey, you,' isn't it?"

Hannah shook her head, "I suppose I should expect that considering your father

did raise you…" Hannah tilted her head to the side, "I wouldn't be so neglecting as to miss my only son's graduation, would I?"

Riley grinned, "No, Mom. I'd give you more credit than that…"

Hannah smiled, "Excellent."

Riley shifted, gesturing to Tristan, "Mom, this is my best friend, Tristan Dugrey. TJ, my mother, Hannah Taylor."

Tristan grasped the elder woman's hand, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Taylor."

Hannah brushed off his formal address with a wave of her elegant hand, an amused look gracing her striking features, "Please, Tristan. It's Hannah. I've heard a lot about you, young man."

Tristan chuckled, "And I, you. How's _Hairspray_ going, by the way?"

The Broadway actress smiled indulgently, "Ah, it's going very well. I'm lucky enough to have a few days off to coerce my son into visiting me up in the city before you whisk him away to a jaunt around the world."

Riley rolled his eyes, love and affection shining from his pale pewter spheres, "Geez, Mom, you're acting like I don't already fawn over you…"

Hannah scoffed playfully at Riley, "Please, son. Don't cloud your mind with disillusions. It's unbecoming."

Tristan smiled, "Well then I should let you go, Beau. I gotta get back, anyway."

Riley nodded, "Yeah, TJ. I guess I'll meet you down in Connecticut?"

Tristan grinned, "Sounds good. So I'll see you in two weeks, Beau?"

Riley smirked, "Yep. Two weeks. You're heading down to Rory's graduation, right?"

Tristan's head bobbed up and down, "Yup."

Riley chuckled, "Well, send her my best and, uh, say hi to Alex for me. And…if you see Paris…"

Tristan clapped a hand on Riley's shoulder catching the end of Riley's unvoiced request, "Will do, Beau."

The two boys embraced tightly, slapping each other on the back. As they pulled away, the two friends tapped fists, and Tristan turned to depart.

"Hey, TJ…"

Tristan rotated back, gazing into Riley's serious and pensive expression, "Yeah?"

Riley hesitated, not wanting to say more than he had to. Taking a deep breath, he settled with the most obscure allusion he could, knowing Tristan could figure the rest out himself.

"_Carpe diem_."

Tristan smiled, nodding his head in comprehension, returning the motto, "_Carpe diem_."

Riley offered his arm out to his mother, "Well, Mom, shall we?"

As they walked away, Tristan rubbed a hand over his head. _Carpe diem_. It was time for the both of them to seize the day.

- - -

It was mere minutes until graduation, and Rory sat in the corner, staring down at the box of photos she had plucked from deep recesses of her locker. Her hands ran over the faces captured within the square frame, remembering the simpler times. Tristan's bright blue eyes twinkled dashingly from the photo as his arms were wrapped around her shoulders. Rory was squashed between him and Riley, both boys grinning as they pressed kisses to her cheeks. Her eyes were squinched shut as she giggled with laughter. Rory sighed as she recalled the tumultuous night that succeeded in impacting three sets of relationships. That night had managed to ruin her short relationship with Jess, destroy her tentative friendship with Dean, but solidify the strength of her friendships with Tristan and Riley.

**_Rory skidded to a stop as the harsh jangling of the phone alerted her senses. Digging through the clutter currently impeding her search for the devil device, Rory plunged into the cushions in her search. Seconds later, she emerged, triumphantly clutching the elusive device as she fought to catch her breath._**

_**"Hello?"**_

**_An amused masculine chuckle floated through the phone line, "Hmm, engaging in some physical activities, are we, Gilmore?"_**

**_Rory's nose wrinkled, "God, Tristan! Must you jump so quickly to a lewd innuendo?"_**

**_"Au contraire, Miss Gilmore. If I am not mistaken, you were the one to jump to a vulgar overtone. Are we thinking dirty thoughts?"_**

_**Rory sighed, "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"**_

_**She could almost hear him smirking over the phone, "As if you ran into a pole…"**_

_**Rory shook her head, "As much as I enjoy your merciless teasing, to what do I owe the absolute pleasure of hearing your voice?"**_

**_Tristan laughed, "Well, Rory, since you asked so mordantly, and you know how I appreciate sarcasm, Amherst gives all graduating cadets a few days off to settle the logistics, if you will, before graduation. You know, who's coming, arrange hotels, all that mess. So since Beau's dad wants absolutely nothing to do with him and his mom is off touring with the company, he and I are gonna be in Hartford for a couple of days next week. I was hoping we could all hang out."_**

_**Rory lit up with excitement as she nodded eagerly, "Yeah, that would be great! When are you coming?"**_

_**Tristan smiled, "Friday of next week."**_

**_"Awesome. That's when Lane's band is playing at her first non-Bible study gig. You should come with us to the party."_**

_**"Sounds good. Until next week, Mary."**_

_**Rory rolled her eyes at the nickname, "I'm counting the seconds as we speak Bible Boy."**_

Shuffling the pictures around as she waited for the graduation ceremony to start, Rory came across another photo. She didn't know how, but someone had managed to capture Jess and Dean staring down Riley, and Tristan, the four pairs of eyes locked heatedly as she hovered in the background. Rory's heart clenched at the photo as she thought of the fateful night and the events that had occurred.

**_Rory rushed down the stairs, Jess hot on her heels. As she brushed passed Dean, she failed to see the enraged look on his face. All she wanted to do was escape this nightmare, get away from all these people. Pushing her way to the front door, Rory halted abruptly as she collided with a pair of two solid torsos. _**

_**"Rory?"**_

**_The recognizable tenor assaulted her ears, and Rory relaxed as Tristan's concerned voice floated into her ears. Immediately, Tristan's familiar cologne engulfed her sense of smell, and she buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him. Automatically, he drew her into the secure cocoon of his strong arms, his brow furrowed with concern. Exchanging confused glances with Riley, Tristan rotated, leading them away from the party._**

**_Guiding her down to the front lawn, Tristan settled her onto the soft grass as her short sobs wracked her body. The anger rising through him, Tristan pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiping away the tears._**

"_**Hey, hey, hey, Mary…what's wrong? What happened?"**_

_**Rory gulped, leaning into Riley beside her as he wrapped an arm around her shaking body, "Jess…has been in a weird mood lately, and up in the room, he just took things further than where I wanted to go."**_

**_Tristan's eyes sparked dangerously, narrowing to slits of pale blue. He could see Riley stiffen as well. But neither boy said a word as they continued to comfort and console the stricken girl._**

"_**Rory!"**_

**_At the sound of her name, Rory glanced up. Jess halted, a pleading look on his face. The expression vanished as he took in the two boys with her. Dean stalked up behind Jess, his mouth open ready to speak, but the taller boy's attention was diverted when he spotted Tristan and Riley, and Dean shifted, voicing the question that ran through Jess' mind._**

"_**What the hell are you two doing here?"**_

**_Tristan shook his head in a condescending gesture, "Ah, still as dumb as ever, Bag Boy. Rory invited us."_**

_**Dean's face twisted nastily, "This doesn't concern you two."**_

_**Riley and Tristan rose simultaneously, shielding Rory behind them. Riley cocked an eyebrow, "From what we know, this doesn't concern you either."**_

_**"I'm making it concern me." Dean spat.**_

_**Tristan tilted his head, "What a coincidence. So are we." His eyes hardened as he glowered over at their opponents, "You mess with Rory, you deal with us."**_

**_"How sweet," Dean simpered, "Trying to chalk up brownie points, Dristan?"_**

**_"No, but I seriously doubt you're winning some yourself with your sweetie over there," Tristan mused, hitching his head to Lindsay as she approached.  
Jess intervened with a sharp knifing gesture of his hand, "Shut up, all of you. This is between me and Rory."_**

**_Riley snorted, "Spare us, Jessie. You cross a line, you involve me and TJ. So unless you plan on physically moving us, the only way you'll get to Rory is through us."_**

**_Jess' lip curled before he launched himself forward, tackling Riley around the waist. Dean followed, throwing out a punch to Tristan's face. The crowed quickly swarmed, hooting and hollering at the four combatants. Rory winced as Tristan brought his knee up, striking Dean in the stomach before sending the tall boy down with an uppercut. To her left, Jess toppled to the ground as Riley lashed out, connecting solidly with Jess' face. As the four boys brawled, Rory could only watch helplessly, knowing the outcome would shape the end result of those four relationships._**

Rory sighed. That night basically formulated the day's current events. After a sound thrashing of Dean and Jess, Tristan and Riley stuck even closer to her during the duration of their stay. Although Dean had some explaining to do to Lindsay, the two still got engaged, and Rory strongly insinuated that her ex-boyfriend was trying to prove a point. And Jess…Rory heaved another sigh. Jess was not present, and her thoughts drifted back to the day he had left without saying goodbye…again. Pushing aside those thoughts, Rory smiled as she flipped to the next picture. Riley and Tristan lounged on the couch of the Gilmore house, adorably disgruntled and sour expressions adorned on each face. Riley held an ice pack to his faintly cut and swollen lip while Tristan gingerly pressed a package of peas to the bruise on his cheek.

**_Tristan gently prodded his cheek, the skin rapidly starting to discolor. Grimacing slightly as he hit a particularly tender area, he grumbled, "Dammit, I think I caught one of Beanie's elbows. The guy sure is bony."_**

**_"Shaddup, Dugrey." Riley growled, his pink tongue darting out to feel over his bottom lip, "Jess was wearing a cuff when he sucker-punched me. I'm gonna have a fat lip for a week."_**

**_Rory rolled her eyes, as she strode in, handing them both cold compresses, "I swear, you two. Must you insist on getting into fights every time you come here?"_**

**_Tristan glowered indignantly, "Oh, that's fresh, considering it was your ass we were defending, Gilmore. Besides, The Amazing Bag Boy and his faithful sidekick, Diner Dude, Jr., over there got off way worse than we did. They're both bleeding _and_ charged with disturbing the peace since they threw the first punches."_**

**_Rory shook her head in exasperation at the two, but her expression softened, "Machismo aside, thanks, guys."_**

**_Riley quirked a dry smile, a gruff chuckle rumbling through his chest, wincing as the movement agitated his slightly bruised side, "Anything for our girl."_**

Rory glanced up as she saw her mom's voice filtering through the halls, and she smiled at the elder Lorelai's proud tone.

"Hi. I'm looking for Rory Gilmore. She's the valedictorian. I'm her mom."

Rory rose from her seat, laying aside the box, "Mom?"

Lorelai wrinkled her nose, shooing her daughter away with agitated hands, "Uh, no, wait, go away. I wanna tell a bunch of other people that I'm the valedictorian's mom and I'm looking for you."

Rory rolled her eyes, the sheepishly pleased smile fighting its way across her face, "I've got good news I wanna tell you real quick. Come here."

Lorelai pouted as her daughter led her out into the hallway, "Killjoy…"

- - -

"_It's a distinct pleasure for me to introduce to you our valedictorian. This young lady was a second-year transfer from a modest school where she distinguished herself immeasurably. She is humble, hard working, competitive when need be, and unparalleled in her academic achievements. Ladies and gentlemen, Rory Gilmore."_

Rory exhaled heavily as she strode up to the podium. With a short nod to Headmaster Charleston, she took her place behind the plinth, pausing to survey the sight sweeping across her line of vision. Standing before her fellow classmates, she couldn't stop the smile from blooming. Not too long ago, every single face here represented a mystery waiting to be unveiled. Not too long ago, Chilton personified hell, and they were the devil's minions. Now? Not so much. Rory could fondly reminisce about the many good times and begrudgingly detest the bad ones, but she couldn't disregard the fact they helped mold who she was. Rory allowed her gaze to sweep over the sprawling campus one more time, realization dawning on her in a sudden surge. The dream was ending for Rory Gilmore, and now it was time to begin reality. Or maybe, she rationalized, reality _was_ the dream. Her eyes wafting down to the typed words on her paper, Rory took a deep breath.

"Headmaster Charleston, faculty members, fellow students, family and friends, welcome…"

- - -

"_We never thought this day would come. We prayed for its quick delivery, crossed days off our calendars, counted hours, minutes, and seconds, and now that it's here, I'm sorry it is because it means leaving friends who inspire me and teachers who have been my mentors - so many people who have shaped my life and my fellow students' lives impermeably and forever."_

The lofty building of Chilton Preparatory loomed overhead as Tristan snuck in through the doors. He paused for a moment, glancing around at his former kingdom, and the memories rushed back to his conscious. It didn't seem long ago that he ruled these halls with a iron fist as the boy whom his fellow males envied for his easy suavé and the females wished to be seen on his arm.

Emerging from the hallway and into the courtyard, Tristan's steady blue gaze took in the legions of Hartford dignitaries seated to witness the latest Chilton generation to graduate. Tristan leaned against the back pillar adorning the pristine venue where his former classmates assembled to officially depart from the school they had all tolerated since the ninth grade. Scanning along the many royal blue polyester backs, Tristan picked out the many people that had shaped his life at Chilton. To his left, Summer Atherton sat primly on her seat, casting coy glances to a tall, brutish teenager, supposedly her latest fling. There she was: the wench that he hated but had to thank. It was because of her that Tristan was able to steal his first kiss with Rory Gilmore. Embarrassment at a public dumping aside, Tristan remembered that night with a fond and almost wistful nostalgia. That kiss they shared would be forever imprinted in his mind, and although she insisted it meant nothing, Tristan begged to differ. To say that kiss meant everything would be a serious injustice to his emotions for Rory Gilmore. Tristan rubbed a hand over his still-shaved hair. The friendship he and Rory had painstakingly forged spanned across a whole spectrum of emotions for him, but he still harbored the hope that one day, they would take a leap over the boundary of friendship and onto something more.

A few seats down, Duncan Sanderson and Craig Bowman slumped down in their chairs, and Tristan smirked. According to Hartford gossip, the pair who had gotten him thrown into military school were a hundredth of a point from flunking out of Chilton. Consequently, neither boy was going to college. Ah, justice was sweet. Tristan shot a quick grin as Paris swung around in her seat, her stern face flickering in surprise as she recognized his figure. He waggled his fingers in a wave, his eyebrows waggling as well in a playfully suggestive leer. Tristan grinned as she rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head in exasperation. After all those years, he still had the uncanny ability to provoke such a response from Paris Gellar that most of the time was paired with annoyance. Studying his longtime friend, Tristan sobered, shaking his head slightly as the sight of Paris reminded him of Riley and the heartache his best friend had gone through upon hearing the news of Paris and her Princeton beau - no pun intended - Jamie. It had taken Riley many nights scribbling in his notebook, but Tristan was pretty confident his best friend was over Paris…well, at least sort of.

Adjusting the grey-blue tie around his neck, Tristan directed his gaze to the podium. One hand casually stuffed into the pants pocket of his suit, he smiled as his unwavering stare locked onto the immaculate figure of Rory Gilmore. Chilton's valedictorian stood proudly behind the wooden dais, her voice floating strongly across the grounds, her head held high with confidence. She looked absolutely beautiful, her unassuming poise captivating her listeners and himself with her eloquent words, and Tristan found himself in a state of almost mesmerized admiration and pride.

- - -

_"I live in two worlds. One is a world of books. I've been a resident of Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha County, hunted the white whale aboard the Pequod, fought alongside Napoleon, sailed a raft with Huck and Jim, committed absurdities with Ignatius J. Reilly, rode a sad train with Anna Karenina, and strolled down Swann's Way. It's a rewarding world, but my second one is by far superior. My second one is populated with characters slightly less eccentric but supremely real, made of flesh and bone, full of love, who are my ultimate inspiration for everything. Richard and Emily Gilmore are kind, decent, unfailingly generous people. They are my twin pillars without whom I could not stand. I am proud to be their grandchild. But my ultimate inspiration comes from my best friend, the dazzling woman from whom I received my name and my life's blood, Lorelai Gilmore."_

Rory allowed the words to tumble forth from her mouth, naturally flowing into the bright Connecticut air. All the hours she had toiled, her means to the end, had produced bountiful results that had exceeded her wildest expectations. Long ago, she had forged dreams, aspiring to become successful, and now, she was well on her way to a bright future. But Rory was aware everything she had accomplished would not have happened without her grandparents and her mother. She had so much to say, so many emotions to convey and only ten minutes to say everything. She had slogged countless hours on this speech, plugging away to express every amount of thanks she possessed into the short time span allotted. Rory couldn't remember how many times drafts were crumpled up and tossed into the waste basket, the words scribbled on paper not enough to communicate the infinite amount of gratitude she possessed. But as she recited her finished copy, the version she was most satisfied with, Rory realized that the words really didn't matter. It was what she did with the opportunities her grandparents and mother provided that would portray her immense appreciation.

- - -

"_My mother never gave me any idea that I couldn't do whatever I wanted to do or be whomever I wanted to be. She filled our house with love and fun and books and music, unflagging in her efforts to give me role models from Jane Austen to Eudora Welty to Patti Smith. As she guided me through these incredible eighteen years, I don't know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her. Thank you, Mom. You are my guidepost for everything."_

Rory lifted her gaze from the pages of her speech, directing her last line to the aforementioned woman, her best friend and mother. Lorelai beamed back, the tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks, her identical set of bright blue eyes shining with pride and elation. Beside her, Sookie honked into a tissue, her own battle with rampant water works failing miserably, and Rory fought to control her own raging tears, the expression splayed across her face articulating more than the words of her speech ever could. As her eyes drifted over the crowd, scanning the mass of notables, her eyes wavered on a familiar head lacking hair and the piercing blue eyes she hadn't seen in a month. He was here. Rory paused as surprise seized her senses, impeding her ability to continue, and she only gaped as an unexpected exhilaration rushed through her veins.

- - -

Tristan straightened as her eyes settled on his. He stared back, his brilliant cerulean eyes twinkling with their perpetual mischief. He could sense her surprise as the shock registered prominently on her features, and he smiled, a reassuring and affectionate gesture. He couldn't help but feel a sensation of elation as she visibly brightened with glee, and he chuckled. Lifting one hand in a wave, he lowered one eyelid in a wink as he blew her a rascally kiss. Rory's face languidly split into a delighted smile in response. Her shock waylaid, her attention reverted back to her speech as she continued.

"As we prepare ourselves today to leave. . ."

- - -

Rory flung herself into her mother's arms as the Gilmore girls squealed with excitement while Luke hovered in the background, a gruff but proud smile crossing his features. Beaming with euphoria, Rory pulled away.

"How was my speech?"

Lorelai sniffed, wiping away the last remnants of tears, radiating with absolute pride, "It made everyone cry, even stone cold Luke."

Rory's mouth fell open in astonishment as she playfully cuffed the notoriously stoic diner owner on the arm, "Luke, you old softy."

Scowling, Luke shuffled uncomfortably in his suit, scratching his neck idly, "I will never live this down."

Lorelai grinned, nudging him with her shoulder, "Not with me in your life."

Luke shook his head as he hitched his thumb, "I gotta go. I gotta get back to the diner."

Rory reached out, impulsively giving the man who was more like her father than anyone a secure hug, "Thanks for coming, Luke."

Luke blushed as she pulled away, shaking his head, slightly flustered, "Oh, sure. The building's great and so are you."

Rory exchanged a glance with Lorelai, the elder Gilmore fighting to hold back a laugh, "Uh, thanks."

As she walked away, Rory snuck a peek over her shoulder at her mother and their faithful coffee supplier. Seeing the expressions on both adults' faces, Rory sighed. Luke Danes was head-over-heels ga-ga for Lorelai Gilmore, and, true to Gilmore form, she was oblivious.

"I guess we should say our goodbyes. Nanny made me a special dinner. She makes a mean farturas."

Rory rotated as Paris approached her. Seeing the single girl who had made her life a Dante's Inferno, Rory smiled, "Well, good, I'm glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye, too."

Paris returned the smile, "Good. Well, good luck."

Rory surveyed the shorter blonde who had become one of her best friends. Paris had her moments of utmost frustration, Rory could attest to that, but in her three years at Chilton, Rory found herself challenged by Paris Gellar and decided she enjoyed the challenge. Funny how it had taken Paris' former crush and Rory's former tormentor, along with his best friend, to bring them closer together. Rory cocked her head at her friend and former enemy, "You know, it's weird, most of the time I really hated you."

Paris chuckled, nodding her head in affirmation to Rory's statement, "Yeah, I really hated you, too."

Drawing together, Paris and Rory hugged. As they broke away, a familiar tenor knifed through the air, tinged with amusement.

"You know, you would think if hell froze over, there would be some kind of international coverage, but I suppose you two hugging is warrant to only the national spectrum."

Paris rolled her eyes at Tristan Dugrey as he sauntered forward, a cheeky smile on his face, "As much as I would love to respond to that, Tristan, I have better places to be."

Tristan pouted, glancing up at Paris through lowered eyelashes, "I'm hurt, Gellar."

Paris shook her head, stepping into Tristan's outstretched arms, "I'll see you around, Dugrey."

Tristan pressed a friendly kiss to her cheek, "Looking forward to it, Gellar."

Swiveling to depart, Paris paused, slowly rotating back. At the remorseful glint to her face, Tristan knew what was coming. Twisting her hands before her, Paris nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Look, Tristan, I know you're gonna see Riley before this, but when you do…" Paris hesitated, "Just…just tell him I really am sorry."

Tristan nodded, sighing heavily as Paris disappeared out the courtyard. Rubbing a hand over his head, he glanced to the side to find Rory staring at him, a questioning glint to to her face.

"What was that all about?"  
Tristan forced out a smile, "Well…" He trailed off as Lorelai, Richard, and Emily Gilmore approach, "Maybe this should wait."

"Tristan, great of you to come!" Lorelai reached out, drawing the young man into a hug. Grinning, Tristan shrugged.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss Rory's speech for the world."

Richard Gilmore stuck out his hand, grasping Tristan's in a firm handshake, "From what I hear, young man, your valedictory address was rather impressive as well."

Tristan fidgeted, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned in to press a welcoming kiss to Emily Gilmore's cheek, "Well, sir, Granddad is a bit biased in that facet…"

Richard chuckled, "Well, I do believe it is time to present Rory with her graduation gift."

Rory's mouth fell open, "Grandpa, you guys didn't have to get me anything."

Emily waved away her granddaughter's protests with a deft hand, "Nonsense."

Richard leaned in conspiratorially, "Uh, this one wouldn't fit in an envelope, so follow me please."

Emily turned towards her daughter, "We're really excited about this one."

Lorelai nodded, bemused she was agreeing with her mother, "So am I.

Emily cocked an eyebrow, "Good."

As the group walked towards the parking lot, Richard could barely contain his excitement as he halted. Gesturing out to the cement area, he beamed, "Rory, there is your gift. It's the one with the bow."

Rory's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked out into the sea of machinery, "Um, Grandpa…"

Tristan bit back a laugh, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth, "Mr. Gilmore…"

Emily stopped short of stomping her foot, whirling to her husband, "Richard!"

Confused by the reactions he was receiving, Richard glanced out into the parking lot. His face darkened as he took in the legions of cars, variant in price range, all sporting a bright red bow. Groaning, Richard threw up his hands, "Oh, for Pete's sake! Well, it was the only one there when I drove it up."

"You should've put a more distinctive bow on it." Emily huffed, an accusatory light to her voice.

Richard raised his hands in defense, "Well, how was I supposed to know that every kid at Chilton was getting a car?"

Rory cut into the argument, astonished at her gift, "You got me a car?"

Richard nodded his head in affirmation to his granddaughter's query, "We got you a car."

Rory squealed, throwing her arms around her grandfather, "That's amazing! Thank you! Thank you! Which one is it?

Lorelai lofted an eyebrow in amusement, "Or did you get her one for every day of the week like the underwear?"

"Personally, it could be for the different types of road," Tristan offered, "You never know when you could need four-wheel drive."

Richard shook his head, "We got her one car. It's a little Prius. It's safe, it gets great gas mileage."

"And it's the one that Leonardo DiCaprio drives." Emily added.

Rory's face took on a sly demeanor as she nudged the blonde-haired boy beside her, "Watch out, Dugrey. I might be collecting pink slips with this winner."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "I wouldn't bet on it, Gilmore. Leo DiCaprio has been known to lose a few races."

Laughing, Rory shook her head in delighted bewilderment, "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you guys."

Emily smiled affectionately, gazing at her granddaughter, "We love you, too."

Richard tapped Rory on the shoulder, "And don't forget to call about –"

"Insurance." Rory finished with an emphatic nod of her head, "I'll do it the second I get home."

Richard puffed up visibly with pride, "Good. Congratulations, Rory. And thank you for your speech."

Rory gave her grandfather a big hug, "You're welcome. I meant it, thank you for everything."

Emily drew her granddaughter into an embrace, "Have fun in Europe. Both of you."

Lorelai shot out a thin smile, "Thank you, Mom."

Emily returned the smile, "When do you get back?"

Lorelai thought for a moment, "The twenty-seventh."

The elder Gilmore nodded, "Terrific. We'll see you that Friday for dinner."

As the elder Gilmores disappeared back into the parking lot, Lorelai leaned in towards her daughter, "Explain the win-win-win thing again.

Rory rolled her eyes, "Everybody wins. That's what it is."

Lorelai frowned dubiously, "Hm…I gotta go talk to Sookie and Jackson. I'll meet you two out front."

Tristan nodded. Holding out his arm to Rory, he led her back into Chilton's halls, "What do you say, Mary, that you and I take a jaunt through this hell…?"

Rory smiled, nodding. As they strolled through the building, Rory nudged Tristan, "So what happened between Paris and Riley?"

Tristan shook his head, "Well, you know when she started dating Mr. Princeton?"

"Jamie?" Rory nodded, "Yeah…"

"Well, Riley was the last to know."

Rory winced, "Ouch. I assume he heard it from you?"

Tristan nodded grimly, "Exactly. In retrospect, I didn't really tell him in that great of a fashion…"

**_Riley hopped on the balls of his feet as Tristan taped the wrists of the light sparring gloves on his hands. Rinsing a clear mouthpiece with water, Tristan offered out the protective covering. Riley obliged, opening his mouth as Tristan popped the mouthpiece in._**

"_**Okay, Beau. Your partner's Knox today. Go easy and keep the hands high."**_

**_Riley nodded, advancing on his friend. Touching gloves with his competitor, Riley circled Brandon Knox. Ducking underneath a jab, Riley retaliated with a right cross, lightly flicking Brandon's shoulder. Tristan hovered from the sidelines, shouting out encouragement to his friend._**

"_**Watch the right side, Beau. You're leaving it open."**_

_**Riley blocked a roundhouse punch from his opponent and shifted to his right, countering with two quick jabs and an uppercut. Dragging his gaze to Tristan, Riley danced out of reach of Brandon's fists.**_

"_**So have you heard from Rory?"**_

_**Tristan shifted uncomfortably, hesitating a moment, "Uh, yeah."**_

**_Riley feinted with a jab, darting in with a left cross. As he backed away, taking a straight right to his shoulder, Riley glanced over at his best friend._**

"_**And?"**_

**_Tristan leaned against the canvas of the ring, "She's doing okay…"_**

_**Riley nodded, backing Brandon against the far ropes with a series of body shots.**_

"**_Paris is seeing someone." Tristan cringed as the words abruptly blurted from his mouth, and he cursed his ungainly delivery._**

_**Currently wrapping Knox up in a clinch, Riley halted, gaping at his best friend, "What?"**_

_**The breath left his lungs in a rush as an uppercut from Brandon connected. Although the blow wasn't at full power, the contact still doubled Riley over. The tall brunette grunted, gasping slightly for breath. As he recovered, circling around Brandon, Riley attacked with a four-punch combination.**_

_**Tristan felt for his best friend, glancing up into Riley's unreadable expression. Riley Beaumont didn't mask his emotions well, and Tristan sensed anger, hurt, and heartache flashing across his friend's handsome features.**_

**_"Who?"_**

_**Tristan hesitated, answering Riley with an inquiry, "Are you sure you want to know, Beau?"**_

**_Riley's mouth tightened in a grim line, fending off the whippet-quick blows from Brandon, "Who, TJ?"_**

**_"Some guy she met in Washington last summer." Tristan mumbled, "His name is Jamie, and he's a college guy. Princeton, I think."_**

**_Riley cursed under his breath, "Dammit. At least give me some sort of an advantage here. I can't compete with a Princeton guy…"_**

**_"Well, you _did_ tell her not to wait for you." Tristan reminded his friend._**

**_"A detail I'm regretting as of now," Riley snarled, groaning as another punch from Knox dug into his gut._**

**_"Drop your right elbow down, you're holding it too high," Tristan advised. Riley complied, two jabs and a right cross nipping Brandon on the torso._**

_**"Anything else you wanna tell me?"**_

_**Tristan failed to impede the final piece of information from flying from his mouth, "She's slept with him…"**_

**_Riley whipped to Tristan just as Brandon lashed out, striking the taller boy across the cheek. Tristan flinched as Riley crashed to the ground, a "whumph!" whooshing from his lungs. Scooting over to his prone form, Tristan cringed sheepishly, "I gather that wasn't a good time to tell you, was it?"_**

**_Riley raised himself on his elbows, a heavy groan rippling from his throat._**

**_Shaking his head dazedly, Riley gasped for breath, spitting the mouthpiece from_**

**_his lips. His gray eyes shifting to Tristan, uncharacteristically somber and downcast, Riley shot his friend a disheartened look. _**

"_**You think?"**_

Rory sighed, smacking Tristan on the shoulder, "Tristan, you lunkhead! Show some tact! Why would you tell him something like that when he's practically fighting someone?"

Tristan shrugged sheepishly, "I figured he'd be too preoccupied to listen."

"He wallowed, didn't he?"

Tristan nodded, "Many a night was spent writing in his notebook, no doubt fashioning a story that conveyed his heartache."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Guys…You have no sense of timing whatsoever."

Tristan chuckled, shrugging in response. Pausing, he gestured around, "Look where we are."

Rory swiveled her head, her surroundings registering in her mind, "This is where you left."

Tristan gazed into her face, "Do you remember what happened?"

Rory nodded, glancing up into his sparkling blue eyes shining down on her with an indiscernible emotion, "Yeah, I do. You left us here and forced Paris to be Romeo."

Tristan laughed, "I meant, do you remember what I said?"

Rory's eyes drifted down to the ground, "'I'd kiss you now, but your boyfriend's watching.'"

Tristan smiled, "You do remember."

Rory raised her eyes, "I couldn't really forget."

"Yeah?" Tristan asked, his eyebrows shooting skyward.

An impish smile spread across Rory's face, "Of course. _Paris_ had to play Romeo which meant she had to kiss me at the end."

Tristan threw his head back, unleashing a deep belly laugh. Smiling widely, he shook his head, "You got my hopes up right there, Gilmore."

Rory grinned, "Your ego can take it, Dugrey. You had my hopes up with a promise of a kiss back then."

Without warning, Tristan darted in, gently pressing his lips against hers. Smirking at her thoroughly shocked expression, Tristan waggled his eyebrows teasingly, "Well, there's your kiss. No running this time."

Rory gathered her wits, smacking him playfully, "Another occasion of your _impeccable_ timing, Tristan."

Rory studied his face. Tristan's handsome features were relaxed with his gentle chiding, but she had felt the sharp wave of tingles that rippled through her body. They were the same sensations that had coursed through her the first time they had kissed, and Rory was sure Tristan had felt them too. She was about to open her mouth to question him when their moment was cut off as Rory's cell phone rang. Flipping the device open, she put the phone to her ear.

"Hello? Hello?"

Snapping the phone closed, Rory frowned, "That's like the fifth time that's happened."

Tristan motioned to the phone, "Wrong number?"

Rory shook her head in the negative, "No, I don't think so…"

The harsh ring of Rory's phone once again sounded, and she flipped it open again, "Hello? Hello?"

Upon hearing nothing, Rory sighed heavily, "Jess, is that you? Jess, I'm pretty sure it's you and I'm pretty sure you've been calling and not saying anything but wanna say something. Hello?"

Tristan backed away slightly, giving Rory her space. Sighing again with frustration, she growled impatiently, "You're not going to talk? Fine, I'll talk. You didn't handle things right at all. You could've talked to me. You could've told me that you were having trouble in school and weren't going to graduate, and that your dad had been there, but you didn't. And you ended up getting into a fight with Tristan, not taking me to my prom, and not coming to my graduation. I hate to do this, but do you realize Tristan came and you didn't? You left again without saying goodbye again, and that's fine, I get it, but that's it for me. I'm going to Europe tomorrow and I'm going to Yale and I'm moving on. And I'm not going to pine. I hope you didn't think I was going to pine, okay? Just to let you know, Tristan was nothing more than a friend, so I'm sorry if you felt threatened by that. But nothing happened between us; I just wanted you to know that. I think...I think I may have loved you, but I just need to let it go. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn't. So, that's it, I guess. Um, I hope you're good. I want you to be good, and, um, okay, so, goodbye. That word sounds really lame and stupid right now, but there it is. Goodbye."

Rory hung up the phone, staring at the device for a second, gathering her thoughts. Tristan came up beside her, drawing her into his embrace. Rory leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burrowing into the solid planes of his chest. Tristan rubbed her back soothingly as she let the tears out. Pulling back slightly, he drew a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit pants, brushing away her tears. Rory smiled, glancing down at the familiar fabric.

"Do you always have that thing?"

Tristan smiled, "Never know when you could lend it to a pretty girl." He continued hesitantly, "I'm guessing things with Jess deteriorated once Riley and I left?"  
Rory snorted, "They didn't have a chance to. He left town almost after you did. God, I'm so sick of boyfriends being jealous of our friendship. That's all it is, isn't it?"

Tristan nodded, heaving a defeated sigh, "Yeah, Rory, that's all it is. I'm sorry."

Rory shook her head, "It's not your fault. You've gotten to be such an integral part of my life. You and Riley both. You know me better than anyone. Well…except my mom." Rory hugged Tristan to her tightly.

"You know I'd take our friendship over any relationship any day."

Tristan chuckled, "Yeah. I know. Thanks, Rory."

Rory giggled, laying her cheek against his, "You're stuck with me for a long time, Dugrey…"

Lorelai peeked around the corner, observing the two teens embrace. A concerned look crossed her face, "Hey. You okay?"

Rory glanced at her mother, wiping away the last of her tears, "I'm okay."

Lorelai shot her daughter a dubious look. Locking eyes with Tristan over Rory's shoulder, the tall boy nodded, a silent promise she would be informed. Sighing in resignation, Lorelai brightened, sticking her hand out to her daughter, "Come on. You too, Bible Boy."

Rory frowned, hitching her thumb in the opposite direction, "But Sookie and Jackson are out that way."

Lorelai waved away her daughter's protests, "I wanna go back a different way. Come on."

Rory obeyed, her legs working to keep up with her mother's pace. Tristan followed, amused at the elder Gilmore girl, "I thought we were going home."

Lorelai insistently pulled her daughter along, "I just wanna make one more stop before we do.

Rory huffed, "Mom, wait!"

Lorelai kept persisting, her mind set on one track, "Hurry, hurry!"

Rory grumbled as she was tugged along, "Have I mentioned recently you have the attention span of a three year-old? This outfit produces a lot of wind resistance, you know."

Lorelai skidded to a stop at the base of the staircase in Chilton's main entrance, "Okay."

Rory frowned at her mother, "What are we doing?"

Lorelai beamed triumphantly up at their surroundings, "Leaving our mark. Got a knife?"

Rory cocked her head slightly, "A knife? For what?

Lorelai rolled her eyes in Rory's direction, sending her daughter a blatant glance, "Carving our initials." She snapped her fingers tenaciously "Come on, knife, knife!"

Rory shook her head, "Uh, like the switchblade I keep in my sock? No, I left it at home."

Lorelai frowned, digging though her purse, "I must have something in here." Raising her head, she triumphantly brandished the small object between her thumb and forefinger, "Ah, safety pin, perfect."

Tristan smirked, producing the small penknife he always had in his possession, offering it to the elder Gilmore, "Here, Lorelai."

Lorelai grinned, plucking it from his grasp, "Oooh! Resourceful. You're good. I knew I liked you…"

Rory shook her head in exasperation, "We can't do this."

Lorelai nodded her head emphatically, "Yes, we can. People need to know we were here. You too, Bible Boy."

Tristan laughed, "I'm game, Lorelai."

Rory groaned at the antics of her mother and friend, "I'm in the yearbook."

Lorelai surveyed the hall, "How about the wall?"

"No, that's too out in the open," Rory reasoned, "They'll trace it back to us."

Lorelai frowned, "They'll see LG, RG, and TD and figure out it was us?"

Tristan shrugged, agreeing with Rory, "There are no dorks here."

Lorelai gestured down to the stone marble beneath their feet, "Somewhere in the floor?"

Rory dismissed that idea, "This marble is two hundred years old. Harriet Beecher Stowe walked on this marble."

Lorelai pointed to the staircase, "Oh, the banister!"

Tristan smirked, "Was donated by Robert Frost."

Lorelai frowned, her voice getting smaller, "The sconce?"

Again, Rory rebuffed the suggestion, "Was ceremonially lit for the first time by Thomas Edison."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, "Geez, is there anything in this whole room that some famous dead person didn't have something to do with?"

Tristan chuckled, "You mean besides us?"

Lorelai frowned, "I'll have you know, Bible Boy, that I was baptized by Father Jonathan Fitzpatrick. He was rather popular in the Hartford church circles…"

Lorelai threw out an arm, silencing their discussion as a couple made their way to the doors, "Ooh, cool it, cool it." She raised her voice, "And this is some very interesting architectural do-dads and hoo-has."

"And wingdings and tum-tums." Rory chimed in.

"And the foundation is structurally sound, not to mention the strength of the baseboards…" Tristan retracted slightly under the Gilmores' inquisitive stares, "What? I'm a guy, and I actually know what I'm talking about."

Lorelai shook her head, "That was close."

Rory rolled her eyes, gesturing to a corner of the wall, "Look, just carve it really tiny here on the baseboard of the wall, and do it reversed, so GL, GR, and DT."

Lorelai threw her hands up in defeat, "Oh, maybe it's not such a good idea."

Rory smiled in satisfaction, "The madness passes..."

Sookie's voice permeated through the air, and the trio diverted their attention to the top of the stairs, "Hey, you guys coming? Oh, hi, Tristan."

Tristan smiled, waving at the stout woman at the height of the staircase, "Hey,

Sookie."

Sookie returned her attention to the Gilmores, "Party at your place, right?"

Rory glanced at her mother, "Party?"

Lorelai shrugged, "Just a little gathering."

Rory grinned, "Cool."

Lorelai waved up at Sookie, "We'll meet you back at our house."

Sookie shot them a thumbs-up as she backed out the door, "Okay, see you there."

Lorelai gestured to the stairs, "Alright, Insane Clown Posse, let's move out…"

Tristan hitched his head the opposite direction, "Uh, I should get going…"

Lorelai waved her hand, "Nonsense. You're welcome to join us, Tristan."

"Yeah?"

Rory seconded her mother's assertion with a nod of her head, "Of course, Tristan. You're like family…"

Tristan smiled, acquiescing with a gesture of surrender, "Okay, if you insist…" The trio began their slow ascent up the stairs when Lorelai threw out an arm.

"Wait, wait. Look around for a second." The two teens obeyed, glancing around their surroundings, "Notice?"

Rory frowned, "Notice what?"

Lorelai smiled an indulgent smile, "It's not so scary anymore."

Rory digested her mother's revelation, taking in the ambiance of the building that had served as the source of her education for the last three years. There had been some interesting happenings between those hallowed halls. And a lot had changed. When she had first come, she was behind in her classes, Paris hated her, and Tristan annoyed the hell out of her. Now, she had graduated as the valedictorian, Paris could be considered one of her best friends, and Tristan was her most-trusted confidant. Glancing at the boy beside her as his inquisitive blue eyes scanned the well-aged buildings, Rory shook her head.

"No, it's not."

_Well, another lengthy one. I must say, I think they are all getting longer as the story progresses…So this chapter marks the end of the Chilton years as we move onto the present-day Season 6. Fare not, Riley/Paris lovers. Their relationship is not over yet. The story is still young, the future looms heavily, and I see fit to remind you all that nothing is set in stone. Things may happen…I'm sure you've all figured out that for the college situation, Tristan is on his way to Stanford University in California and Riley, Paris, and Rory are onto Yale. What shall happen when Riley and Paris meet again? If they even cross paths… Who knows…? Well, actually I do. But as for the rest of you…_

_The next chapter will be more of a catch-up chapter as we find out what our Fab Four: Riley, Tristan, Rory, and Paris have been doing and will be a bit flashback oriented. I'm trying to incorporate actual past season events into the plot – the infamous adultery scandal, the "no-strings" relationship – all that stuff. And by the end of the chapter, I promise to have thrown you a curveball none of you would have seen coming…so stay tuned._

_Roxy_


	7. Oh How We Regret Those Things We Do

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything you recognize_

_And folks, here we are at the beginning of the real story: Season 6. Just to keep everything in context, anything that has happened up to this point is fair game, just keep in mind that Tristan is now a factor, so some things may be a bit different. Everything that is here will be explained and has happened for a reason._

_Some have been wondering, how have Tristan and Rory fared through the whole different schools thing on opposite coasts? Well, to inquiring minds, the answer is in this chapter._

_Just a reminder, this is set in Season 6 prior to Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out, and most of the events are flashbacks…_

**Chapter 7**

_Oh How We Regret Those Things We Do_

Rory Gilmore stopped and glanced around at her current ambiance. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she would ever be situated in such a place. Richard and Emily Gilmore's sprawling pool house was alone about the size of the first floor of the Crap Shack but with none of the homey feeling the small quarters provided. Slowly, she hefted her box of belongings to the bedspread and slowly began to unpack. In her haste to escape Stars Hollow, she had hardly realized what she had packed, hurriedly stuffing her possessions into various boxes.

Rifling through the nearest cardboard box, Rory frowned as her hand brushed against a coarse fabric nestled in the very bottom of the square depths. Grasping the object, she brought it out to the dim light. The navy and gray of Tristan's Amherst letterman's jacket mocked her from its idle position in her grip. Rory sat down on the large king-sized bed, the thoughts swirling though her head as she pondered their current predicament.

She should have known it was a mistake becoming Dean's friend. They had too much history behind them, and she knew he still harbored feelings for her. He looked at her with such unbridled passion and feeling, and Rory knew that bond they shared always shone prevalent in his emotions. He was many of her firsts: her first crush, her first date, her first kiss, her first boyfriend. She could even argue he was her first love. Maybe it wasn't some everlasting love but one of fond attraction, but she had told him she loved him. Rory shook her head. He was responsible for bringing Tristan and herself closer, but also for the current state of their friendship.

**_Rory sat in her room, cursing her stupidity. She and Dean almost kissed. Almost. Kissed. Under normal circumstances, that would not pose any problems. However, these were not typical conditions, and Rory could foresee two prospective complications. The obvious one was Dean was married. Normally, society frowned upon relations with an otherwise attached man. Then there were all of the repercussions of such a scandal. Could she handle the consequences of affairs with a married man? Rory's thoughts drifted to Tristan. He had always warned her about getting too close to Dean, and she'd hate to think what kissing him would do to their friendship._**

_**A sharp knocking assailed her ears, cutting into her internal ramblings. Indolently, Rory dragged herself up from the bed to the backdoor. Her eyes widened as she stared into the dark brown eyes of the man behind the door.**_

**_Dean shuffled on the steps, his hands stuffed in his back pocket. His face split into a sheepish smile, "Hey." _**

**_Rory gripped the doorframe tightly, her face registering surprise, "How'd you know I was here?" _**

**_Dean shrugged, his hands coming up to idly twist the gold ring around the third finger of his left hand, "Your mom said she sent you on an errand." _**

**_Rory couldn't help the smile from working its way onto her face, "Ah, you went right to the source." _**

**_Dean nodded, a deep chuckle rumbling his chest, "Can I– "_**

**_Against her better judgment, Rory acquiesced, stepping back to allow him to enter, "Sure." _**

**_Dean gave her a tight smile, stepping into the threshold of the Gilmore house, "Thanks." _**

**_Rory turned, leading him into her bedroom, addressing him from over her shoulder, "I'm just trying to find some CDs for the Dragonfly." _**

**_Dean smiled, following her, his hands casually in his pockets, "I hear Taylor's a big hip-hop fan." _**

**_Rory grinned, "Oh, he hops with the hippest of them." _**

**_Dean halted in her doorway, peeking around her room. "Your room looks the same." _**

**_Rory shrugged, attempting to push the slight sensation of anxiety away from her stomach, "Yeah, I tried that whole French revival thing, but it didn't really work for me." _**

**_Dean nodded as the conversation stalled. In an effort to revive their interaction, he coughed slightly, "So, um, is it weird being back at home after being away for a while?"_**

**_Rory frowned, shaking her head at the awkward inquiry. Her suspicions were starting to pique, "No, it feels completely normal." _**

**_Dean bobbed his head uncomfortably, "So, um…" He scratched the stubble on his chin, "Today..." _**

**_Rory swallowed beyond the lump in her throat, "Yes, today."_**

**_Dean tried to keep their conversation alive, shuffling awkwardly, "An interesting day." _**

**_Rory smiled a tight smile, "I'd authorize a case study if I could." _**

**_Dean glanced at her intently, a meaningful shine to his dark eyes, "You know, I could be wrong, but somehow I had a feeling that maybe if Tom hadn't have come in when he did -"_**

**_Rory blanched, knowing what he was insinuating. Shaking her head, she cut him off, "Dean? _**

**_Dean halted, gazing into her eyes, "Yeah?" _**

**_Rory sent him a pointed look, "Lindsay." _**

**_Dean sighed, running a hand through his floof of hair, letting it flop back into his forehead. Languidly, he shook his head, "It's not working with Lindsay. I can't make it work." Helplessly, he shrugged, "I've tried." _**

**_Rory bit her lip, nervously tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Are you sure? Because I've heard that the first two years of marriage are the hardest." _**

**_Dean jerked his head in an almost somber manner, "We're not happy. She's not happy, and I can't make her happy." _**

**_Rory sighed, attempting to liven his spirits, "I can't imagine that." _**

**_Dean soberly glanced down at the broad gold ring adorning his left hand. For once, it seemed to weigh heavily on the digit, almost like a manacle. Despondently, he shook his head, "It was a mistake, and I know that now. From the very beginning, it wasn't -"_**

**_Rory tensed, slightly fearful at his next admission, "Wasn't what?" _**

**_Dean gestured wildly, attempting to convey his words, "It wasn't..." _**

**_At his silence, Rory shifted, "Maybe you could, um, go see a counselor or go away together…" _**

**_Dean shook his head somberly, "No, it's just -- it's over. We both feel it. I know we both feel it." _**

**_Rory's breath hitched in her throat, "You and Lindsay?" _**

**_Dean sighed, nodding in affirmation, "Yeah, me and Lindsay. _**

**_Rory cocked a dubious eyebrow, "You both feel it's over?" _**

**_Dean paced slowly around the room, shaking his head, "I tried. We tried." _**

**_Rory moved over to the side of the bed, "Well, if it's over, I'm sorry." _**

**_Dean glanced over to her, hesitating at her response. Rory could see his features drop for a second before he dragged his gaze over to her, "You are?" _**

_**Rory nodded, shrugging as she lay a gentle hand on his arm, "I'm sorry you're not happy."**_

**_Dean moved closer, diminishing the distance between them as well as all pretenses of friendly conversation. Rory knew what he wanted as he reached up to gently cradle her cheek, "I'll be happy again. Things happen for a reason, right?" _**

**_Rory shied away slightly as he descended down. Overwhelmed by the heavy daze the situation induced, Rory could only gape up helplessly. Her gaze drifted over Dean's shoulder to the many photographs situated around the room, and her light blue stare settled on a framed photograph of herself and Tristan. His muscled arms were wrapped around her from behind as she leaned back into his embrace. They grinned giddily up into the camera, elation shining on each face. Thinking of Tristan, Rory backed away, holding Dean out at arm's length, "No, Dean. We can't do this. I can't do this."_**

**_Dean once again moved closer, "Yes, we can, Rory. I can…"_**

**_Rory shook her head emphatically, "No, Dean. You're married, and I just don't feel that way anymore. What happened at the Dragonfly was a mistake. A mistake that shouldn't have happened."_**

_**Dean shook his head angrily, "Are you saying all this between us means nothing to you?"**_

_**Rory sighed, "Not in the way you want it to feel like, Dean. I've moved on. You and I are friends, nothing more."**_

_**Dean threw up his hands irritably, "This is about Dristan, isn't it? You're still hung up on him…"**_

_**Rory gazed up at Dean, her blue eyes blazing with anger, "Don't you dare bring Tristan into this, Dean. He and I are friends."**_

**_Dean backed out the door, "You know what? Fine. Run to your precious Tristan. Let yourself be another notch on his bedpost. But what happens after he gets what he's after, huh, Rory? Mark my words: one of these days, he'll break your heart, and don't come crying to me."_**

_**Rory watched him go, an unreadable expression on her face. Bemused, she sank down onto the mattress of her bed, unable to comprehend what just happened.**_

Rory clutched the jacket to her. She had never given it back, and Tristan had never asked for it. It was just about the only reminder she had of the good days where everything was simple. She breathed in the musky scent, still ingrained within the fabric, uniquely Tristan. Idly, Rory stroked the embroidered material, tracing over the letters of his name. What had happened proceeding her confrontation with Dean had changed the face of everything she knew.

**_Rory gazed after Dean as his back disappeared out the door before grabbing her cell phone. Punching in the first non-relative number in her speed dial, Rory waited. The voice on the other line answered immediately._**

_**"Rory?" The deep voice was groggily laced with sleep.**_

**_"Tris…I-I didn't mean to wake you. Just…never mind…"_**

**_At her distressed tone, Tristan sat up straighter in his bed, calling frantically into his phone, "No, no, don't worry about it…" He could hear her sniffling on the other end, and his brow creased in apprehension._**

_**"Is something wrong?" **_

**_Rory sighed, irritably wiping the tears from her eyes, "It's nothing, Tristan. I just…I just needed to hear your voice. Don't worry about it. You can go back to sleep."_**

**_Cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder blade, Tristan yanked on a pair of jeans, shoving his arms through a shirt, "No, you're upset. I can hear it. Hang on a second. I'm coming over."_**

**_Her ears picked up the click as Tristan hung up, and she buried her face in her hands. What had just happened? _How_ could it have happened? Was it something she did that gave him some kind of indication that she wanted some thing like that? Sure, she felt affection for him, he was her first boyfriend. Rory would always covet the time they spent together, as frustrating as it was. But…how could he even think of committing something that destroyed the sanctity of marriage like adultery? Rory was confused; could there be something so alluring that one would risk such vows as to violate them?_**

**_Rory's mind was still in the depths of her contemplations when her ears were alerted to the Tristan's evident arrival as he barged through the front door, his expression harried, his hair tousled with sleep. His haste to get to her was noticeable as Rory glanced down at his untied shoelaces and his half-undone button-up shirt showing an expanse of his broad chest. Appearing in the doorway to her bedroom, he stared at her for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. Tristan opened his mouth and was about to speak when Rory wrapped herself around his lithe torso, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He immediately drew his arms around her frame, shielding her away from whatever had troubled her, his brow furrowed with concern. Whispering soothing words in her ear, he rubbed her back, kissing her hair as the rasping gasps rocked her body. Gently extracting her from his torso, Tristan lowered them to the edge of her bed, cradling her face in his palms as he wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs._**

_**"Hey, hey, hey, Mar. What's wrong?"**_

_**Her heart melting at his tenderly anxious voice, Rory glanced up into his deep blue eyes, cloudy with his worry for her. Taking a deep breath, Rory shook her head.**_

_**"It's Dean. He came over tonight."**_

**_Immediately, Tristan's eyes steeled to chips of pale blue ice, and he stiffened. When he spoke, his voice was controlled, keeping his temper in check,"What did he want?"_**

**_Rory's gaze stayed fixated on the ground, "He and Lindsay are having a hard time…and he -"_**

**_Tristan bolted up from his position on the bed, his deep eyes ablaze with anger. Running a hand through his hair, grown out into its tousled state of haphazard spikes, he paced, the irritation evident in his short and quick strides. Rory could hear him muttering beneath his breath, petulantly scratching at the light stubble that adorned his strong chin._**

_**"I'm gonna kill that idiot. I swear…"**_

**_Rory held out a hand, yanking him back down to the edge of the bed, "Tristan, you don't know what he was here for."_**

**_A dark look overtook Tristan's face, "I can take a wild guess, Rory." He grumbled, staring at her straight in the eye, "Did he do anything?"_**

_**Rory shook her head in the negative, "No, but he wanted to…" Rory buried her face in her hands, "Oh, God! I could have done something with a married man…"**_

**_Tristan growled gutturally in his throat, the sound almost primal in its rage, "It's one thing to cause problems for you, Ror. It's another thing to draw _you_ into _his_ problems…"_**

**_Rory grasped his biceps, rubbing her arms up and down the muscled skin, "Tristan, nothing happened…" She fell still, contemplating her situation. Tristan noticed her silence, and his features softened, he dropped his head, his inquiring blue eyes locking onto hers._**

_**"Hey, Mar, what's wrong?"**_

_**Rory lifted her head, a pensive expression gracing her features. Tristan tensed, knowing the look all too well. She was going to ask something extremely profound with a large margin of error that could prove to be fatal to either his health or their friendship. Tristan stared back, bracing himself for the onslaught that surely to come.**_

_**"Do you love me?"**_

**_Whatever Tristan's expectations, that question was not what he had anticipated in the least. Recoiling slightly in utter astonishment, his cobalt eyes flew to hers, the shock and surprise evident in the wide orbs. Tristan stuttered, unable to formulate a coherent sentence._**

_**"Wh-What did you ask me?"**_

_**Rory's expression was resolute in its appearance as she gazed intently at his face, "Do you love me?"**_

**_Tristan ran a hand through his hair, still tousled from the joint efforts of sleep and its natural state, "Clarify, please…" Tristan paced before the younger Lorelai, gesturing wildly as he struggled to sort out her recent inquiry, "Do I love you as a friend, do I love something about you…?"_**

**_Rory shrugged, vulnerabililty heady in her stare, "Do you love me in the general, most basic sense of the word, I guess." Taking a deep breath, she drew her knees up, tucking them beneath her._**

**_"I'm just so tired of this whole charade of guys leaving me with no concrete reason and then reappearing with this renewed sense of vigor towards me." Rory glanced away, an exposed look on her face._**

**_"I mean, Jess just up and bolted because he couldn't deal, and then he comes back to try to whisk me away to New York, pledging his undying love for me. Dean broke up with me for not saying 'I love you' back and because of Jess, and now he's asking me to commit adultery with him…" Rory turned helpless eyes to Tristan standing silently. His face was impassive, not portraying any emotions, just listening keenly._**

_**"Is it so hard to find someone who just unconditionally cares?"**_

**_Tristan's expression contorted with emphatic passion. Easing himself down beside her, he gently cradled her cheek in his hand, "Hey, Mar. I love you in the most basic and general sense of the word. I love your wide, blue eyes that draw me in with their dual sheen of innocence and curiosity. I love how you're innately and unpretentiously inquisitive about the world. I love your insane coffee addiction. I love you, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, for more reasons that I have time to name. And if you're looking for someone who just unconditionally cares, I'm right here."_**

**_Rory gazed into his mesmerizing eyes, twinkling with their perpetual intensity, the underlying spark of mischief highlighting the deep orbs, her lips parted at his words, touching her deep within her heart. Subconsciously, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. Surprised at first, Tristan reciprocated the gesture, his skillful and pliable mouth gently probing hers. Rory scooted even closer to on the bed, grabbing the opened lapels of his shirt, tugging him insistently against her. Her palms slipped beneath the fabric, running upward against the solid planes of his firm pectoral muscles. As her fingers drifted to his buttons, Tristan broke away, his breath coming in rough gasps._**

_**"W-What are you doing?"**_

**_Rory dipped her head down, her hands playing with the buttons beneath her fingertips, "I seriously thought about giving my virginity to a married man; a guy who swore he loved me then dumped me twice. You've always been here for me, Tris. For once, I just want to be with someone who loves me in the general, most genuine sense of the word."_**

**_Tristan grasped her chin, bringing her gaze to meet his, "I do love you in the most general sense of the word, Rory. But your first time should be with someone who loves you with the deepest of passion, with unbridled adoration. You're emotional right now, Ror. I don't want you to regret your first time."_**

_**Rory leaned in, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips, "I won't regret this time, Tris. You love me, and I love you. Please."**_

**_At her pleadings, Tristan glanced away, "You do realize this is the point of no return, Rory. Everything is going to be different, right?"_**

**_Sensing him concede, Rory darted in, brushing her lips across his, "Yeah, I do."_**

**_As her lips ghosted across his, Tristan allowed his eyes to drift shut, snaking one arm around her waist. Dragging her into his embrace, he gently probed her lips, prompting them to part. Rory allowed a moan to rock through her throat as she tugged on the fabric of his shirt. Soon, hers joined his as Tristan whipped the garment over her head. Tristan craned his neck downward, capturing her lips in a kiss full of reassurance and affection. Their eyes locked, and Rory kept her gaze on his as Tristan gently lay them back down on the bed._**

Rory continued to unpack her belongings. As she took out each possession, she could recall the many memories they all represented. Digging deep into the box, Rory extracted a plain silver ring on a chain, and she sat for a moment, staring at it as the recollection of the nights returned.

How she had come to give her virginity to Tristan Dugrey, Rory would never figure it out. All she knew was, at that moment, it just seemed right. He had always been there for her, even with over twenty states separating them during the school year. One would have thought their friendship would deteriorate with the distance, but in reality, being on separate coasts only strengthened the bond they had forged together. Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her fingers rubbed over the ring and its smooth texture.

_**Tristan gazed down at the girl across from him from a propped elbow. Rory's bed couldn't be described as roomy, but Tristan didn't mind. The close quarters brought him even closer to Rory Gilmore, currently wrapped around his frame as he held her close.**_

_**Rory lifted her stare to his, blushing slightly at the intensity of his blue eyes. Clearing her throat, she spoke, her voice timid, "Are you comfortable? Am I killing your arm?" **_

**_Tristan chuckled, shaking his head at her hesitancy, "No, Rory. My arm is fine." _**

**_Rory persisted, knowing two people cramped in a single bed could not be even remotely comfortable, "I could move." _**

**_In response, Tristan snaked an arm out, drawing her even closer in the cocoon of his embrace. Leaning in, he brushed a kiss to her forehead, gently nudging her nose with his, "Nuh-uh, Gilmore. Don't you dare move." _**

**_Rory sighed with contentment, snuggling down even further beneath the blankets, burrowing into his muscled chest, "This right here is the textbook definition of a perfect moment." _**

**_Tristan couldn't help the laugh from rolling through his throat. Brushing a strand of her mussed hair from her face, Tristan quirked his famous grin, "You know, only you would use an allusion that pertains to school." Seeing her face contort into a scowl, Tristan dipped his head down, kissing her frown away, "But who am I to argue with such irrefutable logic?" Tristan glanced down at her satisfied face, "You really think this is a perfect moment?" Tristan scanned her features from lowered lashes._**

"_**Even if it was with me?"**_

**_Smiling, Rory captured his lips with hers, "Yeah, Dugrey. Even if it was with you. And I'm happy, are you happy?" _**

**_A soft smile graced Tristan's chiseled features, tender in appearance, "'Happy' is one end of the spectrum…" _**

"**_Happy, but not chatty?" Rory inquired, running her hands up his solid torso. _**

**_Tristan tore his eyes from her radiant face. Lowering his head sheepishly, he shrugged, "I denno. I'm just hoping this isn't some kind of malicious dream. This is real, right?" _**

**_Rory's face softened as she closed the miniscule gap between them, "It is." Rory gently stroked his cheek, grazing her knuckles across the pale stubble adorning his chin. She leaned in, engulfing his lips in a sweet kiss. Drawing away, Tristan frowned as Rory's brilliant eyes took on the mischievous glint she acquired from him._**

**_Tristan narrowed his eyes, "What are you thinking, Gilmore?" _**

_**Rory giggled, "What makes you think I'm planning something, Dugrey?"**_

"**_Because I know you better than anyone, except Lorelai, and you stole that look from me." Tristan bluntly stated, "And you and I both know that's the look that means something's up."_**

**_Rory pouted, smacking him on the arm, "I was just thinking we need something to remember this." _**

**_A deep chuckle rumbled through Tristan's chest as he flipped them, covering her body with his. Dipping his head to lightly nip at the skin of her collarbone, Tristan smiled into her skin as she stiffened with the sensations, "I doubt you'll have to worry about that little fact. There is no way I'm forgetting this." _**

**_A gentle smile crossed Rory's countenance as she gently stroked his strapping features, "I know what you mean…"_**

**_Tristan leaned down to kiss her again when an ungainly thump alerted his presence. Frowning, he directed his attention to the door, "What was that?"_**

**_As the tell-tale slam of a door permeated his hearing, Tristan jerked, jostling himself off the bed, landing heavily on the floor with a thud. Rory glanced over at the side of the mattress, her face laughing down at him. Tristan glowered._**

"_**Yeah, yeah, Gilmore, laugh it up."**_

**_Rory's smile faded as her mother's voice resonated through the house, chattering in her usual pace, "Rory! Oh, my God. You're missing everything!" Lorelai's footsteps banged on the stairs as the elder Gilmore ascended to the second floor._**

"**_Grab those CDs and head back to the inn before you miss the cross-dressing midgets. That's where the night is headed. Oh! Things are happening -- big things, wow things. I have so much to tell you."_**

**_The sounds of Lorelai's descent once again rang through the house as Tristan and Rory scrambled to yank on their clothes._**

_**Lorelai bounded into the kitchen, her face alight with happiness, "Let me just open with this little tidbit -- Kirk running naked through the square. Of course, with all my careful planning and preparation, I forgot to bring Band-aids and a camera. I have got to learn that, always, without fail, Kirk equals camera…"**_

**_More or less in a state of dress, the pair darted out of Rory's room just as Lorelai entered the kitchen. The elder Gilmore's head tilted as she surveyed the two teens, taking in Tristan's rumpled appearance and Rory's still slightly-mussed hair. Nervously, the younger Lorelai smoothed down her hair, gazing out anxiously at her mother._**

"**_Hey, what's going on?" _**

**_Rory stiffened, nervously twisting her hands before her, "Dean…came over."_**

_**Lorelai blanched, "Did something happen?"**_

_**Rory shook her head, "No. I stopped it before anything did."**_

**_The relief shone evident on Lorelai's face as she relaxed. Rory tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, "I called Tristan to come over and help me sort it out."_**

**_Tristan shuffled nervously, "Yeah, uh, I should get going…"_**

_**Rory nodded, "Um, sure. I'll see you out…"**_

**_Tristan worked what he hoped to be an innocent grin onto his face, waving at the elder Gilmore girl, "Uh, bye, Lorelai."_**

**_Lorelai gazed after the young man as he shuffled out the doorway of the kitchen. An amused glint shone in her blue eyes as she absorbed his sheepish smile. A sly smile of her own worked its way onto her face._**

_**"Bye, Bible Boy…"**_

**_Tristan grimaced at the conspiratorial tone in Lorelai's voice, aware that she knew of their earlier activities, and Tristan stopped as they reached the front door. Halting in front of Rory, he glanced down tentatively into her face._**

"_**Look, I know you said it earlier, but I have to ask again. You don't regret what happened, do you?"**_

_**Rory smiled, "No, Tristan. It caught me by surprise, but I don't regret it…"**_

_**Tristan's anxious face softened in relief as he sighed, "Good. Neither do I." Glancing down, he twisted the silver band around the middle finger of his left hand.**_

**_"I know you wanted something to remember tonight by, so here." Slipping the ring off, he handed it to her. Rory glanced at the ring in her palm, shaking her head. It was his maternal grandfather's wedding band, the only memento of the authority figure he had lost at a young age._**

_**"Tristan, I can't accept this, I know how much it means to you…"**_

_**Tristan shrugged, "Yeah, you can. Because you mean more…"**_

_**Rory smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, "Thank you."**_

**_Tristan grinned shyly, an emotion that was not prevalent in his repertoire, and Rory smiled herself, endeared at his sudden bashfulness, "I guess I'll see you around?"_**

**_Rory glanced up into his hopeful eyes, her head bobbing up and down, "Yeah…"_**

Rory glanced down at the chain holding the ring before hooking it around her neck as she returned to the present. Lorelai hadn't been too upset about the fact her daughter had lost her virginity to her best friend, rather surprised at how suddenly it happened. Rory sighed at the thought of her mother. It had been so long since they had had a fight of this magnitude, but like her current situation, Rory stayed resolute in her mindset.

Swiveling her head, she surveyed her surroundings, engulfed with the size of Emily and Richard Gilmore's pool house. In a situation like this, Rory wouldn't hesitate to call Tristan and talk to him. But there was only one problem with that theory: At the moment, she and Tristan were not speaking and hadn't been for the last year. Rory sighed heavily. Their predicament was her fault, that much she knew.

**_Rory fidgeted as she sat down on a counter stool at Luke's. Anxiously, her hand played with Tristan's silver ring that dangled from her neck. She had slept very little for the last few days as Dean's parting words rang in her ears._**

"**You know what? Fine. Run to your precious Tristan. Let yourself be another notch on his bedpost. But what happens after he gets what he's after, huh, Rory? Mark my words: one of these days, he'll break your heart, and don't come crying to me."**

**_Rory thought back about that night. Tristan was so gentle, so loving; there was no way he was after…that, was there? But the rumors of Tristan's many conquests swirled around Chilton all the time, and his promiscuity was legendary. As she thought of the many girls Tristan supposedly slept with, Rory felt the worst possible emotion flood her consciousness: doubt. As hard as she tried, she failed push away her doubt. It began in her head with a nagging voice resonating in her mind. Then, it spread until it encompassed every inch of her rationale: the doubt that his intentions were sincere, the doubt that she could handle being with him, the doubt that this wasn't yet another ploy to get into her pants. As much as she hated to admit it, Rory was scared. She had felt something that night; something that she had never felt before. Not with Dean, not with Jess. Tristan wasn't supposed to invoke those feelings within her; he was her best friend, her most trusted confidant. She wasn't supposed to fall for him. No. There was only one explanation to why he was so willing to sleep with her, Rory reasoned to herself. She, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore – the only girl who had successfully evaded Tristan's effortless charm – had now fallen victim to Tristan Dugrey and was yet another notch in his well-marked bedpost. Rory forced herself to believe that idea. She had not fallen for Tristan Dugrey, and he for her. No._**

"_**Why such the serious face, Mar?"**_

**_Rory jumped as Tristan's baritone cut into her ponderings, and she stiffened as he gracefully slid into the seat beside her. Regaining her composure, Rory quirked a dry smile, "I don't think you'll be able to call me that, Tristan."_**

**_A deep chuckle rumbled through his throat as he snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer, "You know you'll always be _my_ Mary." Tristan leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss across her lips. Feeling her tense beneath his lips, Tristan pulled away, a concerned frown ghosting across his countenance._**

"_**Rory…are you okay?"**_

_**Tristan's eyes widened in alarm as Rory's beautiful blue eyes pooled with tears as she jumped off the stool, brushing past him as she stumbled to the door. **_

"**_I-I'm sorry, Tristan. I can't do this…"_**

**_A confused look on his face, Tristan leaped off his seat, pursuing her. Determinedly, he chased her down the sidewalk to the gazebo. His long, lengthy strides caught up with her as he grasped her arm, gently turning around. Startled at the tears coursing down her cheeks, Tristan cradled her face in his hands._**

"_**Hey, Rory. What's wrong?"**_

_**Rory jerked away from his touch, keeping him at a distance. Tristan frowned as her face took on an antagonistic appearance as she shielded herself, "Shouldn't you be jumping for joy or something, Tristan?"**_

**_Tristan backed away, his eyebrows drawing together in perplexity, "What are you talking about? You're losing me here, Rory. What's this about?"_**

_**Rory shook her head, aggravatedly running her hands through her hair, "God, I'm such an idiot. I should have known."**_

_**Tristan slowly advanced, gazing intently at her flustered face, "Known what? Rory, you're not making any sense."**_

_**Rory raised her eyes to his, and Tristan shied back slightly at the accusatory glint behind the sapphire spheres, "Congrats, Tristan. You've finally accomplished your lifelong goal. You've finally nailed the Mary."**_

**_Tristan felt his breath catch in his throat as he stumbled backward with the weight of her words. The world swirled around him as he fought to regain his composure. He looked away, bewilderment marring his handsome features. When he lifted his eyes to Rory, the pale blue spheres were alight with pain and indignation._**

"_**You really think that's how it is?" His words barely reached a whisper, "You think that's all you mean to me?" Tristan's face hardened with anger.**_

"_**You're disregarding the last two years? Have they shown you nothing?"**_

**_Rory stared defiantly back into his face, "Isn't it?"_**

_**Tristan glanced away, a bitter glint to his expression, "Bag Boy put this in your head, didn't he?"**_

_**Rory shook her head, "Besides the point, Tristan. Isn't that what you've been after all along? You can't deny that's how you felt when we first met."**_

"_**No, I can't." Tristan spat, disgust tainting his features, "But that was then, Rory. Look at now. Have I ever even given you the indication that's what I want? I've never done anything to even hint at that. If you remember, that night, you came onto me. Not the other way around."**_

**_Rory stared heatedly into his eyes glazed over with hurt. Tristan despondently shook his head. His eyes dragging upwards to meet hers, the blue irises sparked with anger._**

"**_You what I think? I think you're scared. You felt something that night, and it scared the hell out of you. Well, I felt it, too. This wasn't a one-night stand, Rory. This wasn't a fling. You know there's something here. You felt it the first time we kissed, and you feel it now. You're scared because this isn't something you've ever experienced before, and you're feeling it with me." Tristan raised his hands, a gesture of surrender._**

"**_You know, maybe you're right. Maybe I can't do this anymore. I spent two years showing you that pig I was is nothing like I am now. But I guess it meant nothing. Because if you don't see it, it was all useless." Tristan backed away, shaking his head sadly._**

"_**Goodbye, Rory."**_

That day, Tristan had walked away, never looking back. It had been about three seconds after his Porsche had roared down Main Street when Rory realized what an idiot she had been. She had pushed away perhaps the only good thing in her life with one horrible accusation. But, her stubborn mind still stayed unyielding in her opinion. She had given her virginity to Tristan Dugrey, and although she had stated otherwise then, she just might have regretted it now. Maybe not because she didn't feel for him, but for the events prompted from the aftermath.

"Ace, are you ready to go?"

Rory glanced up as the blonde head of Logan Huntzberger poked in her doorway, yanking her thoughts from a different blonde rich boy. Grabbing a jacket, she nodded, taking his hand as he led her away.

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

Logan grinned, one finger drifting up to flick the ring around her neck, "Cute charm. Where'd that come from?"

Rory shrugged gazing into his brown eyes, remembering a set of pale blue ones, "Just a reminder from the past…"

- - -

Tristan Dugrey whistled as he packed up his belongings into the many suitcases he had brought along. Glancing out the window of his condo he shared with two other guys, Tristan smiled at the beautiful weather of Palo Alto, California. The picturesque avenue twinkled out at him from the window, and he waved at a friend loading his own boxes into a truck.

Rifling though his pictures, Tristan stopped as he glanced down of one featuring Rory and himself. She was perched on his back, her long hair blowing in the light breeze, her arms wrapped around him. They both grinned out at the camera, alight with happiness. Those were the good times, the simpler times.

"Cute girl…"

Tristan glanced sideways at his suitemate and friend, Brent Collins, "Yeah, she is."

"Ex?"  
Tristan shook his head, "No. She's my best friend. But we kinda hit a rift last year. I haven't spoken to her since last summer."

Brent nodded, "Well, if I were you, bud, I'd mend that rift. Good friends are hard to find…"

Tristan chuckled, placing the frame into a box and sealing it for the trip to Connecticut, "I know that. It's all a matter of how quickly she remembers."

As Brent exited his room, Tristan allowed his mind to drift back to that fateful day he had walked out of Rory Gilmore's life. For so long he had toiled to show her his real self, his true self. But maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe he wasn't enough. Tristan sank down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands. That first year of college had been so trying for him with what happened with Riley, with what happened with Alex, and even with what happened with Brandon Knox. Tristan ran a hand over the silver cuff on his left hand, tracing over the engraved name. The incident with Rory was just icing on the high cake of adversity he faced that year, and for all Tristan cared, he was ready to let it all go…The problem was, he couldn't. As much as he tried, he couldn't just cut Rory Gilmore from his life because, as Riley so eloquently reminded him, they shared a bond forged so tenaciously that it was difficult to simply cut that part away.

**_It was winter break in Hartford, and Tristan had returned from his first semester of sophomore year in California. Skating over the frozen pond in the sprawling Dugrey backyard, Riley and Tristan batted a hockey puck across the frozen tundra._**

_**Tristan glided over the icy sheen, his face red with the cold, "So, uh…have you seen Rory?"**_

_**Riley received the rebound, skating towards their make-shift garbage can goal, "Why, TJ? I thought you were trying to forget her."**_

_**Tristan lunged forward in an effort to snatch away the puck, "I am." He insisted, as Riley skated away, still in possession of the black disk, "Is it so wrong to wonder what she's doing?"**_

**_Skidding to a stop, spraying ice chips up Tristan's pant legs, Riley shook his head, "Dammit, TJ, wise up! There's a reason you can't forget Rory, nor are you trying real hard!" Seeing Tristan about to respond, Riley pointed his hockey stick at his best friend, "And don't you dare try to deny it." Riley irately prodded his best friend with the blade of his stick._**

_**"You honestly don't get it, do you TJ? You'll never be able to get over Rory because this is the girl you worked so hard to show that you aren't some rich prick rolling in Daddy's bank account. This is the girl you did a complete 180 for. You're never gonna forget Rory Gilmore because in your heart, you aren't even mad at her in the first place. You can't find it in your soul to be mad at her." Riley threw his hands out wide.**_

_**"Dammit, TJ…a girl like this doesn't come around very often. People don't get second chances. Believe me, I know. So do me a favor and swallow your goddamn pride, pull your head out of your ass, and mend fences with her. Because I'm getting sick and tired of saying you're doing 'just fine' every time I run into her…"**_

**_Tristan glanced down at his hockey skates, shaking his head, "I denno, Beau. I don't know if I can do that." Shrugging, he met Riley's gray eyes._**

_**"I mean, I put it all out there. I put it all on the line, and she shot me down…"**_

_**Riley sighed, skating away, "Look, I'm not saying that it's solely your fault. I'm just asking you, do you want to throw away all you worked for on one argument?"**_

_**Tristan scratched the beanie covering his head, "I don't know. I honestly don't. It's not something I can't just disregard, Beau. It hurt."**_

**_Riley blew out a deep breath expelled in a cloud of mist to furrow before his mouth, "Yeah, I know…I know it does. It's just... I'm your best friend, TJ. I've seen you at your highest high and you're lowest low. I don't want you to throw away something that could be potentially great over one argument."_**

_**Tristan nodded, "Thanks, Beau. Look, maybe we'll get there one day. It's just now…I don't know. That one cut me deep."**_

_**Riley nodded. Hitching his head back to the house, he gestured for Tristan to follow, "C'mon, TJ. Enough girl problems. Let's head in. I heard your mom made some pot roast…"**_

_**Tristan scoffed, scooping the puck up, "Pull your mind out of disillusions, Beau. The cook made the pot roast."**_

_**"Don't care who made it, TJ. Either way, it's ending up in my stomach…"**_

Tristan stared hard at the many pictures featuring himself and Rory. That conversation had taken place almost six months ago, and Tristan still hadn't attempted to make contact with Rory. Blame it on his pride, but her parting words to him had cut deep, maybe even further than he cared to admit. He wasn't gonna make the first move of reconciliation, that was for sure. At least, he didn't think he was.

- - -

Riley Beaumont groaned, hefting his bag onto the living room couch of Janlan Dugrey's sprawling guest house. Flopping down on the loveseat beside it, Riley stretched, yawning heavily. The drive from New Haven to Hartford wasn't long, but with the stress of finals and moving out of the apartment, Riley was exhausted. Just as his eyes were about to drift shut, allowing the man to indulge in a long and restful sleep, his cell phone rang. Fumbling for the device, Riley didn't bother to check on the caller ID as he flipped the phone open, pressing it to his ear.

"Make this quick or suffer my wrath…"

Tristan's recognizable chuckle floated through the phone line, "Enticing, Beau."

Riley idly rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Now's not really the time, TJ. I'm not feeling too hot."

Tristan smirked, "Okay, okay. I'm just making sure you got to Hartford okay."

Riley hefted a mock sigh, "Oh, how sweet. TJ, you treat me so well…"

"Shove it, Beaumont." Riley could hear Tristan's dithering behind the line, "So, uh…how's she doing?"

At the thought of their topic of conversation, Riley softened, his face sobering immediately, "She's dealing. She ran into him once. It wasn't too pretty…"

Tristan nodded, "Speaking of running into, I heard about what happened between you and Paris during Spring Break this year."

Riley groaned, shaking his head, "Yeah, trying to forget about that…"

Tristan laughed, "Yeah, Beau, nice try. Funny how things work out, huh?"

Riley shook his head, "Paris dating a professor. Can't say I wasn't surprised. Man, it was so awkward after that…"

"I know what you mean…" Tristan hesitated, "So, have you talked to…"

"Rory?" Riley fiddled with the silver cuff encircling the wrist of his left hand, pausing before he answered his best friend, "Uh, yeah. Once or twice, actually…I don't see her too often. Journalism classes are on the opposite side of campus."

"So is she…"

"Dating anyone?" Riley finished. "Uh, I denno. Paris mentioned something about casually dating a few people, but I don't know about a boyfriend…"

Tristan nodded, "Uh, yeah. So my flight leaves in about a few hours, Beau. I'll see you when I land."

Riley nodded, "Yeah, okay, TJ. I'll see you then."

As the dial tone, Riley leaned back, tossing his phone away. So much had happened in his first two years of Yale, so much that he wished to remember and forget. Glancing at the latest edition of the Yale newspaper, Riley caught a glimpse of a very familiar name. A name that had haunted him for the better part of two years. A name that had stirred such feelings in his heart and prompted the most poignant story in his best-selling book. Damn Paris Gellar.

**_Riley stared, bemused as the many flashes of light assaulted his eyes. He felt very dolled up in the smart suit jacket and pants, his hair expertly styled to appear windswept and tousled, a fact Riley hated to add that was its present state. Here he was, sophomore year of Yale University, and his book had already hit the best-seller list. He never thought he'd be here, signing copies of his compilation of short stories, _**Running in my Skivvies: The Chronicles of Military School**_, to many fans. He glanced down at the cover and his penname, R. Daniel Chase. Some could say he was hiding his identity, but Riley argued that he was simply glorifying the man who prompted him to write. It was the man long passed to whom the book was dedicated to. Riley sat down, smiling nervously at the first person in line. Hastily scrawling his name, he posed for pictures, looking in wonder at the many admirers coming to see the young, handsome, and talented author already known for his excellent characters, intriguing plots, dry and charming wit, and dashing good-looks._**

**_After a good fifty autographs, Riley glanced up at his next fan, and his breath hitched in his throat. Paris Gellar smiled nervously down at him, his novel clutching in her grasp. Riley failed to find his voice, hastily scribing his name on the front cover, along with a short message. Shooting Paris a meaningful look, Riley flashed a charismatic smile at his next enthusiast as Paris Gellar shifted away from the line. Allowing the façade to fade for a moment, Riley gazed after the girl who had trampled on his heart two years ago._**

Digging into his suitcase, Riley extracted his first published work, running his hands over the title, his eyes shining with pride. All he ever wanted to be was a writer, but his father discouraged that vocation not thinking it was a career "suitable for a Beaumont." But then again, neither was his brother's line of work. Christian Beaumont looked down on his younger brother's occupation as a film director, even as it brought the younger Beaumont fame and recognition. Chase Beaumont, Christian reasoned, was never a suitable Beaumont to begin with. Idly twirling the platinum band around the ring finger of his right hand, his last souvenir from the uncle who cared the most, Riley thought about his deceased uncle. Chase Beaumont was the only person who encouraged him to write, the only person who saw Riley's potential beneath the rebellious and defiant exterior. Chase Beaumont was the only person who knew that the rebellious teen would some day amount to something.

Thinking about his uncle, Riley's thoughts shifted to his aunt. Chase's wife, Rebecca, was his uncle's complete opposite. Where Chase was spontaneous, Rebecca was structured. Where his uncle was vivacious, Rebecca was straight-laced. Thinking about his uncle and his foil of a wife, Riley thought about his own foil in his life: the relationship that ended before it even began. Absentmindedly, Riley opened his book to one of his stories, _Ouch, That was my Heart_, written at the time a certain Paris Gellar had run rampant through his life, and he drifted back to the past Spring Break, only two months ago. After two years of basically not seeing each other, the moment Riley laid eyes on Paris Gellar that day, the fire that had long laid dormant ignited again, and against his better judgment, Riley found himself falling for Paris yet again.

**_Riley strode down downtown Hartford to a small coffee shop, still basking in the glow of the days events. Granted, his left hand was killing him from signing so many books, but the young author couldn't say he wasn't flattered with the support his book attained. Sliding his sunglasses from his eyes, Riley sidled into the seat besides Pars, shooting her a grin._**

"_**Well, Ms. Gellar. Glad you found time in your busy schedule to join me. I can't say I wasn't surprised that you showed up at my book signing."**_

**_Paris nervously fidgeted with the napkin in her lap, slightly unnerved at Riley's jovial and friendly manner, as if things between them weren't awkward in the least, "I didn't know it was your book." The blonde admitted, "I could argue that you used a rather deceptive penname."_**

"**_Well, what did you think of it?" Riley inquired, a cheeky smile lighting up his countenance, "Something reminiscent of Fitzgerald?"_**

**_Immediately, Paris' features contorted into a frown, "I wouldn't stoop so low as to insult you on that level, Riley. You know, considering I haven't swayed in my opinion of Fitzgerald."_**

_**Riley's face softened with nostalgia, "Nice to know some things never change…"**_

**_Paris looked up timidly into Riley's chiseled features, glancing away quickly, unable to face the blatant hurt beneath his buoyant exterior, "You know, Riley, I didn't mean to hurt you."_**

**_Riley nodded, glancing down at his dress shoes, playing with the leather cord around his neck, "Yeah, I know you didn't. Can't say I didn't bring that upon myself, though. I did tell you not to wait for me."_**

_**Paris fidgeted on her seat, "I guess I should have told you first, though. I heard how you found out."**_

**_Riley huffed out a dry chuckle, "Yeah. Not one of my finer moments." Sobering, he gazed into Paris' deep brown eyes, "So, uh…how have you been? Last I heard, you were dating Professor Flemming."_**

_**Paris nodded, "Yeah. We were happy."**_

_**Riley allowed a small smile to spread across her face, "I'm sorry about what happened."**_

_**Paris shrugged, "Well, it took awhile to get over that. I'm dating someone from the Yale paper now."**_

_**Riley shook his head, "We never that great on timing, were we?"**_

_**Paris quirked an ironic smile, "No. We never were. Maybe one day, Riley."**_

**_Riley nodded, "Yeah. Maybe one day." Jumping as he felt the vibration of his cell phone, he shot Paris an apologetic look before checking the caller ID._**

"**_Uh, do you mind? This is important." At her gesture to continue, Riley pressed the phone to his ear. Immediately, his features hardened as he spoke in soothing tones to the voice on the other end._**

"**_He what? No, no. Don't do anything. Just stay where you are, I'll be right over. Everything's gonna be okay. I'll be there in five minutes." Snapping the phone shut, Riley glanced over at Paris._**

"_**Look, I really hate to cut this short, but something came up. Maybe we'll meet again some other time?"**_

**_Paris hesitated before nodding, "Yeah. I'd like that." Shifting nervously in her seat, she gazed up into his warm silver eyes, "Look, I'm sorry it's still so awkward…"_**

_**Riley chuckled, "You caught that, too?"**_

_**Paris gave a toss of her head, "Kinda hard to miss…"**_

_**Riley quirked a grin, "Can't deny that…"**_

_**Straightening from his seat, he slid over to her end of the table. Leaning over, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before touching two fingers to his forehead in a salute.**_

"'**_Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say adieu till it be 'morrow.'"_**

_**As Riley turned to leave, Paris' small voice called him back, "Riley…"**_

_**Rotating, he swiveled to meet her uncharacteristically timid eyes, "Yeah?"**_

"**_That one story, _**Ouch, That was my Heart**_…That was about us, wasn't it?"_**

_**Riley glanced downward, his hands in his jean pockets. Lifting his eyes, Riley didn't waver in his steady gaze, "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't."**_

_**Paris let her eyes drift downward, forcing herself not to look into the intense gray eyes she knew so well, "I really didn't mean to hurt you."**_

**_Riley ran a hand through his hair, the brown strands blowing in the light wind, "Doesn't mean it didn't, though…" With a final wave, he quirked a small smile, "I'll see you, Paris."_**

Riley tottered to the bedroom of the guest house, flopping back onto the bed. Staring up at the blank ceiling, he pondered how his life had gotten to this state. It all seemed so surreal, so unnatural. He had never been this torn with emotion before: happy with his success, yet sad with the lack of affection in his life. Glancing at the only photograph he had that had him, Tristan, Rory, and Paris, Riley wished for times to go back to high school, where everything just seemed to make sense.

- - -

For once in her life, Paris Gellar could honestly say she was at a loss. Everything used to be so fine and dandy with no complications whatsoever. But that was then. How now got to be so crazy and disrupted, Paris couldn't even begin to explain, and that was only directed to her academic life. Let's not even begin to talk about her love life.

Damn that Riley Beaumont. Paris was perfectly content with being alone, too wrapped up in her tyrannical quest to become Chilton Preparatory's valedictorian. But no. The charming cads themselves, Tristan Dugrey and Riley Beaumont, had to return to Connecticut on leave and upend her flawlessly constructed world on its axis. She had to fall for Riley, kiss him, and then subsequently pine for him during his absence from her social spectrum, not to mention the state of Connecticut. But Paris Gellar refused to pine. So, she went after the next best thing: Jamie. Yep, Jamie, the Princeton man from Washington. How he became attracted to her, Paris had no idea, but then again, she never could comprehend why Riley showed an interest to her as well.

Paris sighed as she stuffed the last of her belongings into her bag for the trip back to Hartford. Thinking back to Jamie, she shook her head. If she hadn't handled her pseudo-breakup with Riley that too well, she hadn't handled her breakup with Jamie at all…okay, she handled things a bit too harshly.

**_Paris lounged on their apartment couch, her eyes fixed on the TV screen. The blonde barely glanced up when Rory entered, a frustrated look gracing her features._**

"**_So, you're just sitting here watching TV?" _**

**_Paris gave an aggravated toss of her head in the negative, "I'm studying. Look at Ted Kennedy, huh? I always admired him as a senator, but you see him and think: It's just so unfair that fat men look good in suits. We girls get a couple of pounds and every piece of fashion betrays…" _**

**_Rory huffed a heavy sigh, snatching the remote and rendering the lovely image of a plump Ted Kennedy to black, "Off."_**

**_Indignantly, Paris glared at her roommate, "What?" _**

**_Rory plopped herself before Paris, her aggressive stance radiating with purpose, "I want to talk to you about your boyfriend situation, Paris." _**

**_Amused, the blonde cocked an eyebrow, "Jamie?" _**

**_Rory gestured outwardly in sarcasm, "I'm sorry, I should have clarified 'boyfriends.'" _**

**_Paris pointed a finger in recognition, "Oh. You mean a certain other fella." _**

**_Exasperated, Rory shook her head, "Let's cut the coyness. I want to talk about you having an affair with Professor Asher Flemming and at the same time stringing along poor Jamie, with no concern for his feelings." _**

**_Interrupting, Paris sighed heavily, "It's not an affair." _**

**_Rory brushed off her protestations with a wave of her hand, "Affair. Relationship. Fling. Tête-à-tête. What ever you want to call it." _**

**_Paris leaned back between the couch cushions, treating her friend with an amused look, "Well, I'm very surprised by this." _**

**_Rory narrowed her eyes, suspicious at Paris' last statement, "How so?"_**

**_Paris sent Rory a pointed look, "You've never wanted to discuss Asher before." _**

**_Rory glanced away, shaken at Paris' easy use of Professor Flemming's first name, "Well, I don't particularly want to discuss him now, but I'm forced to." _**

**_Paris' brow furrowed in confusion, "What's forcing you -"_**

**_Rory cut her friend off, an admonitory shine in her expression, "I just ran into Jamie, and he's wandering around lonely, missing you, scared of losing you, and you're sitting here watching C-SPAN!" _**

**_Paris waved off her concerns, "Nobody watches C-SPAN. It's just on in the background." _**

**_Rory rolled her eyes at her friend's blithe attitude, "Well you gotta choose Paris, because this is becoming pretty clear that the what-ever-you-want-to-call-it with the professor is not a short-lived thing." _**

**_Paris nodded in her normal curt manner, a thoughtful look to her countenance, "I'd say that's accurate, and you can just call him Asher." _**

**_Rory visibly shuddered at the thought, "No, he's my teacher, so I think I'll stick with professor." _**

**_Paris frowned, her nose wrinkling in disgust, "Professor just makes him sound old." _**

**_A sigh of deep exasperation rocked through Rory, "He _is_ old!" _**

**_Again, Paris waved off her concerns, "He's sixty. Today's sixty is what fifty was twenty years ago and he's got the body of a forty year old." _**

**_Rory buried her face in her hands, willing herself not to be scarred with the image that just flashed through her conscious mind, "I really don't want to talk about his body." _**

**_Paris continued as though she hadn't been interrupted, "I'm not denying that we've got a May-December romance going on here." _**

**_Rory began to pace before her friend, wringing her hands, "This is not May-December, this is May - Ming Dynasty!" _**

**_From her position on the couch, Paris didn't seem fazed in the least, "An age difference like this is very common. People dating people the same age are passé now." _**

**_Rory threw up her hands, "My _grandfather_ introduced you to him. Do you see how awkward this is for me?" _**

**_Paris shrugged, the epitome of nonchalance, "Well, hot men tend to run in packs." _**

**_Rory's pacing halted abruptly as she squared up to Paris, not particular to the sentence she had just heard spewing out of her roommate's mouth, "Do _not_ ever say anything like that again." _**

**_Paris smirked in a very Tristan-like manner, "Mary, you are such a prude." _**

**_Rory wrinkled her nose at the moniker, "You've been hanging around Tristan too much…Well, at least I'm not mean to people who love me. Where is your heart?" _**

**_Paris sighed, conceding to Rory's rants, "I know I've mishandled the Jamie situation. He just can't take a hint." _**

_**Rory shook her head, staring at Paris, "No, Paris, you 'mishandled' the Riley situation. You haven't even handled the Jamie situation at all."**_

_**Paris narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean I mishandled the Riley situation?"**_

_**Rory threw out her hands in exasperation, "Paris, Riley was the last person in the world to know you had moved on and with Jamie nonetheless! Don't you think you owed the poor guy some courtesy?" Rory sighed.**_

"**_Look, you gotta do something, because one of us here does care about Jamie and I think it's me." _**

**_Paris nodded, "I know. He's my first real boyfriend." _**

**_Rory shrugged sympathetically, "Well, you got lucky with him. With Riley, too." _**

**_Paris continued on her pace, "And he's crazy about me, I never quite figured out why." _**

**_Rory rolled her eyes, "Oh, don't get so self-deprecating. It's obnoxious." _**

**_Paris' face softened into a contemplative light, "He's been so forgiving. I've been pretty mean." Glancing over, she snatched up the cordless phone and began to punch in the familiar numbers._**

**_From her place besides Paris, Rory encouraged her friend, "Just talk to him and see how it goes." _**

**_Paris waited as Jamie answered his phone. Her tone curt and brisk, Paris forged ahead, "Hey, it's me. We've got to end this - now."_**

**_Rory could only gape in dumbfounded astonishment as Paris proceeded on, "There's just no reason to prolong it. Sorry you came all the way out here. Well, Rory show me the light. She made me see there's just no point in going on." _**

**_Finally uncovering her voice from the depths of shock, Rory gestured wildly, "Paris!" _**

**_The blonde ignored her friend, speaking into the mouthpiece, "No, she just came home and we talked. She's right here if you want to ask her, yourself." _**

**_Rory backed away from the couch, warding off the proffered device, "Do not give me that phone!" _**

**_Paris shrugged, returning her attention to the no-doubt stricken man on the other end, "Anyhow, I'm really sorry Jamie. Really. Bye."_**

**_Rory huffed, blowing a strand of her hair away from her face, "That had all the tact of a Nazi storm trooper…" _**

**_Paris sent a pointed look her way, "It was your idea." _**

**_Rory gawked at her friend, "Breaking up was not my idea!" _**

**_Paris scoffed, "Well, he'd be stupid if he thought that's why I'd do it." Bolting from the couch, she began to pace the small expanse, rationalizing to herself. _**

"**_This was good. It was right. I'm glad I did it." Glancing over at Rory, Paris gestured to the blank screen devoid of Ted Kennedy, "You can have the TV if you want."_**

Little did Rory know, Paris had retracted into her room with thoughts not of either Jamie or Asher Flemming but of Riley Beaumont and what their own relationship could have possibly bloomed into. In the present time, Paris shifted slightly pulling from beneath her a flyer with Asher's face on it. She smiled sadly at the thought of her deceased boyfriend. It was only a few days after his wake that she and Rory had run into Riley. Awkward wasn't even the beginning of the encounter.

_**Rory paid the vendor, handing a cup of coffee to Paris beside her. Patting the shorter blonde sympathetically on the shoulder, she walked along the courtyard of campus.**_

"_**So how are you dealing?"**_

**_Paris shrugged, taking a sip of the espresso clutched in her hands, "Okay, I guess. It's gonna take me awhile."_**

_**Her attention concentrated on Paris, Rory failed to notice the tall figure in her path until she brushed against his solid torso. A pair of strong hands grasped her arms, steadying them both, and Rory shot a grateful look to the man she had bumped. Her eyes widened as she took in the familiar pale eyes of Riley Beaumont.**_

"_**Riley!"**_

_**Riley Beaumont flashed his dashing grin, opening his arms to receive Rory's jubilant greeting, "Hey, Rory." **_

_**Stepping back, she surveyed Tristan's best friend, looking him up and down. The hair that had stayed buzzed in high school had grown out, falling over his forehead before tapering down to just below his ears, hiding beneath the cap jauntily perched on his head. A slight stubble graced his strong chin, and the firm muscles strained beneath the fabric of the long-sleeved t-shirt pushed up to his elbows.**_

_**Riley adjusted the black messenger bag lying across his broad shoulders, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets. Slowly, his eyes wavered as they settled on Paris Gellar.**_

"_**Hey, Paris."**_

**_The shorter blonde nodded, her voice fighting to hide the emotion as she addressed the man from her past, "Riley."_**

**_If he was taken aback by the curt salutation, Riley hid it well behind a charming smile. Rory sensed the awkward moment between the two and abruptly changed the subject._**

"_**So, I didn't know you went here…"**_

_**Riley nodded, raking a hand through his brown hair, "Uh, yeah. Y'know, I was accepted to a slew of Ivy Leagues, but I liked Yale. I liked what it had to offer." He gestured to Rory.**_

"_**So, what about you? I'd hate to think Harvard turned you down…"**_

_**Rory's face brightened, "You remembered?"**_

_**Riley huffed a chuckle, "Are you kidding me? After hearing TJ spew your life story for the past four years, I know your height and weight the day of your birth…"**_

_**Catching the flicker of emotion in Rory's clear eyes, Riley coughed with embarrassment, "Uh, sorry. Didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."**_

_**Rory shook her head, waving him off, "Don't worry about it…"**_

_**Riley turned his attention to Paris, "So, uh, how have you been doing, Paris?"**_

_**Paris nodded, her outer façade cool and composed as she clutched her coffee cup between tense hands, "I'm good. Really good."**_

_**Riley quirked a hesitant smile, "Uh, that's good, I guess." Jerking as he glanced down at his watch, Riley shot the two girls a sheepish smile, "Sorry, ladies. But I have a class in five minutes." Reaching in to give Rory a hug, Riley paused as he approached Paris, unsure of a fitting send-off. Paris settled the dispute, sticking her hand out in a cordial manner. Riley's gray eyes flicked down to the offering before his grasped it firmly.**_

"_**I'll see you both around."**_

**_Lifting one hand in a wave, Rory watched as his broad back exited, turning the corner to another building. Glancing sideways, she studied Paris, her roommate's sharp brown eyes fixated on the spot that Riley Beaumont had just vacated._**

"_**Are you gonna be okay?"**_

_**Paris hefted a heavy sigh, shaking her head in bemusement, "Of all the gin joints in the world…"**_

Even after two years of their "breakup" things between Paris and Riley were awkward. Paris sighed as she glanced down at the picture of herself and Doyle. Things were pretty good with her right now. But the problem was, with Riley Beaumont, things were hardly ever normal.

- - -

Encompassed within the general boundaries of Hartford, four young men and women glanced around at their various surroundings, some familiar and others not so. It had been over two years since the four of them had been in the same vicinity as one another, let alone the same state. But with the upcoming summer vacation looming, the four friends, Paris, Riley, Tristan, and Rory, all found themselves in Hartford, Connecticut for a whirlwind four months that would forever shape their respective futures individually and together.

_Whew! Okay, hopefully now you are all caught up. So how have Rory and Tristan fared? Bottom line: They haven't. But before you all send me death threats, remember, this is a TRORY and will end up at TRORY. I never said it was gonna be all roses and pretty things…_

_So let's recap that whole section that covers over until the span of summer proceeding sophomore year: First, Paris breaks up with Jamie and begins an affair with Professor Asher Flemming. Then, during the summer of freshman year, instead of the whole Rory/Dean adultery debacle, Tristan is the one Rory gives her virginity to. This sets up the fall-out that occurs a few weeks into summer vacation. Tristan and Rory are not speaking anymore. Sophomore year, Asher Flemming dies, and Paris subsequently runs into Riley a few days after his wake. During winter break of sophomore year, Riley encourages Tristan to mend fences with Rory, a feat Tristan does not pursue. Skip to spring break of sophomore year, riding the wave of his success, Riley attends a book signing of his compilation of short stories where he runs into Paris. He meets her at a café later. That brings us to the present where our story will now begin…_

_Of course, Tristan and Rory won't be not speaking forever…this is a Trory and them not speaking isn't going to further their relationship at all. What gets them speaking again…well, that's gonna be an interesting plight, I will admit. You must be wondering, where is Alex in all of this…or maybe you haven't. Or maybe you've picked up on some kind of clue…?_

_Details, lads and lassies, details! They will come into play later…remember that. Until the ink blots…_

_Roxy_


	8. I've Thrown Away the Hope I Had, Part I

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing is mine._

_Cripes, you people like this story! Surprise is certainly one end of my emotional spectrum…Anyway, I'm glad you are all happy with how things are going, and I'm sorry I made Rory a bitch with the whole Tristan situation, but it needed to be done! A bit of an explanation is in this chapter occurring in a conversation between Tristan and Paris. Anyway, I hinted to something concerning Alex in the previous chapter, and the introduction to that part of the plot – an essential part, hint, hint – is in this chapter, which is a two-part that will explain everything._

_So, with that note: On we go!_

**Chapter 8**

_I've Thrown Away the Hope I Had in Friendships, Part I_

Rory ambled through Hartford in search of her favorite coffee café. She missed Luke's, nothing could replace his coffee, but a small café in downtown Hartford sufficed to say the least. Stopping at the bar, she chatted up the barista, catching up on the latest events. As she scooted outside, looking for an empty table, Rory's searching gaze arrested on a mother-daughter pair conversing animatedly in the corner, and she felt a pang of sadness. A few months ago, that would have been her and Lorelai. Rory diverted her eyes, unable to look at the pair any longer. Sure, the two Lorelais had been in fights before, but never had she been in such an argument with her mother like their current predicament.

Preoccupied in her quest to find a seat, Rory failed to notice the head of tousled brown hair until she collided with it, jerking her forward. Whirling to apologize to the hapless victim, Rory halted as a pair of hauntingly familiar, pale pewter eyes flicked in her direction. Gaping slightly in surprise, the owner rose to his lofty height, his handsome face searching hers hesitantly.

"Rory?"

The deep, gravelly voice sparked her recognition and she approached the tall figure hesitantly, "Riley?"

Immediately, the lips parted in a dashing grin, roguish in its quality, the light gray eyes sparkling with an impish sheen, and Rory smiled as she received her visual confirmation that it was Riley Beaumont standing before her. Setting down her cup, she stepped into his open arms, laughing as he twirled her around with delight. Holding her at arms' length, Riley shook his head, looking her up and down.

"Wow, Gilmore. Someone smacked you with a hotness stick." Gesturing to the empty seat beside him, Riley motioned for her to sit, "Come and join me."

Rory settled down gracefully beside him. Her eyes sweeping up and down his body, she took in Riley Beaumont, "You've grown out your hair…"

Riley chuckled, running a hand through his slightly tousled locks that fell across his forehead, curling over his ears. Scratching idly at the long sideburns extending to the middle of his earlobe, Riley quirked an amused eyebrow, "What, you thought I was gonna keep the buzz look forever?"

Rory gave him a reproving glance, "I didn't think you were gonna grow it this long."

Languidly raking a hand down the back of his head, where his hair stopped about an inch from his shirt collar, Riley shrugged, "Considering the last time you say me was about six months ago, I don't know how long it's grown since then. But, hey, what can I say? Some guys are just born with good hair…" Riley grinned, "Besides, you should be talking. Look at you. I like the bangs, by the way."

Rory tucked a strand of her chocolate hair behind her ear, the strands falling in light waves down her shoulders, wispy bangs framing her face, "Thanks." She gestured to the small, neat patch of hair beneath Riley's lower lip.

"Going with a bit of facial hair, too?"

Riley chuckled, "I always thought the clean-shaven look made me look younger…"

Rory sat back, taking in his appearance as he lounged back in the chair. She hadn't seen much of Tristan's best friend, despite the fact that he attended the same school, that one time with Paris pretty much the only face-to-face interaction. Lately, Rory had only kept contact with him through e-mails. Over the last three years since she had first met him, Riley had matured, his handsome features becoming more defined and chiseled. His still leanly muscular body was encased by a white polo shirt, a gray long-sleeved shirt pushed to his forearms. A broad silver cuff surrounded his left wrist, paired with a black leather bracelet while a tattoo encircled the skin above the bracelets, and a broad platinum ring graced the ring finger of his right hand. Beneath the sleeve of his right arm, Rory spotted another tattoo, written in ornate script. His long legs stretched out, clad in destroyed jeans, his flip-flopped feet planted firmly on the concrete. Rory shook her head. Riley looked as though he had stepped out of the pages of a Hollister catalogue, a far cry from the militant style he had adopted back in high-school.

Rory crossed her legs, taking a sip of her coffee, "So, how have you been?"

Riley grinned, "You mean since the last time you saw me?"

Rory laughed, "Yeah, since those six months."

Riley shrugged, "Uh, I've been well. My book came out last year, and so far it's been doing really well on the best-seller lists. I've got another one waiting in the wings, and my agent wants me to get it out as soon as I can. You know, ride the wave of my 'success.'" Riley leveled her with an even stare.

"What about you? How's Yale treating you so far?"

Rory tucked a strand of hair uncomfortably behind her ear, "Uh, it's been tough, I'm not gonna refute that. I took an internship this spring. Rory shook her head, "The journalism world's a harsh business."

Riley chuckled, leaning back in his seat, "I'm not gonna even try to contradict you there. A few papers have given me pretty scathing reviews. Most of them coming from those newspapers owned by Mitchum Huntzberger."

If Riley saw the stricken look that crossed Rory's features, he didn't comment on it. Rearranging the skirt that swirled around her calves, Rory ventured on hesitantly, "So, uh, what did he say?"

Riley waved a dismissive hand, "Ah, the usual: 'Disillusioned boy seeks profundity in absurd circumstances.' 'Romanticized version of the dull and monotonous life of military education.' 'This book is utter and abhorrent garbage that no intelligent reader should waste his time on.'" Riley scoffed.

"Considering how many people 'wasted their time' on my book must say something about the intelligence of American culture doesn't it?"

Rory let out a weak chuckle, "Uh, yeah…"

Riley ran a hand through his hair, his handsome face taking on a dark look, "I wouldn't listen to a leech like Mitchum Huntzberger. The guy's a dipshit who doesn't know the first thing about reality. The reason he's so respected is he glamorizes his business, making himself to be some kind of celebrity that he's not. He takes pleasure in watching hopes and dreams crumble beneath his fingertips because he has the power to do so, and people eat it up. For one, everyone loves a cutthroat, and it never hurts to have connections in the media."

Rory tensed as the analysis plunged home, "You really believe that?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "Coming from first-hand experience, yeah. Mitchum Huntzberger lives on biases. If he doesn't like you, he'll hack you down without giving a damn…"

Rory frowned, "So what does he have against you?"

Riley visibly stiffened, a dark look clouding his normally easy features. His left hand drifted up to play with the leather cord that lay above the medallion perpetually around his neck, "Personal issues."

Rory nodded, "I'm sorry to hear that…"

Riley shrugged, "Ah, it's nothing to fret about. It's just one guy's opinion. An opinion, I might add, that has clout without legitimate merit."

Rory frowned, "Yeah?"

Riley snorted, "Yeah. The guy monopolized every single one of his newspaper chains, all within legal methods. The only reason his opinion means anything is because he has about four or five other papers that will publish the same thing. Whatever he says doesn't represent anything because you go to somewhere like the _Times_ or the _Globe_, known for being prestigious, and they'll tell you the exact opposite."

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "You don't seem to think very highly of Mitchum Huntzberger."

Riley quirked an ironic smile, "Yeah, well, I haven't had the best of interactions with ole Mitchum. He's a lot like my dad: a charming, affable exterior, pleasing to all, but in reality, he's a jackwad with very little morals or principles."

Rory sighed sadly, "I know what you mean…"

Riley ran a hand through his hair as he switched subjects, "So, uh, how's life in Stars Hollow? Mrs. Kim still holding Lane under manacle and ball?"

Rory shifted, glancing away slightly, "Well, I can definitely say Lane's severed the ball and chain, but with the rest of Stars Hollow, I wouldn't know much. I'm staying with my grandparents this summer."

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "Yeah? Voluntarily?"

Rory let out a dry laugh, "Well, Mom and I kinda had an argument at the end of the year."

A crease appeared in Riley's brow as he frowned, "I'm sorry to hear that. So considering your situation with your grandparents, I gather you're attending TJ's 'welcome back' party tonight?"

Rory nodded, her eyes directed down to the concrete of the sidewalk, "I don't really have a choice. That's the downside to living with Grandma and Grandpa: I'm obligated to attend every social function in their schedule. Taking into account the three decade-old friendship between Grandpa and Janlan, barring nuclear warfare, we probably wouldn't miss it." Rory cocked her head at the tall man across from her.

"When did Tristan's flight get in from California, anyway?"

"Late last night." Riley replied, stretching his arms over his head, "He's currently conked out in his room at Janlan's where he and I are staying this summer. I couldn't get him up if I tried. You know how heavy of a sleeper he is. A five piece orchestra and AC/DC couldn't get him out of bed."

Rory smiled, "And what ever happened to the five in the morning wake-up call?"

Riley chuckled, "Oh, he still wakes up at that time to go running in the morning. But at the academy, we were so accustomed to getting up to a bugle that it was difficult to habituate ourselves to the steady beeping of an alarm."

Riley grinned, "TJ still hasn't shaken that habit. One day during winter break, I downloaded the melody the school uses from the Internet and played it to wake him up. He bolted out of bed and was halfway into the morning ritual before he realized he wasn't at Amherst."

Riley's chuckle elevated to a belly laugh at the memory, "I gotta tell you, Rory, TJ's face turned a shade of red I've never even seen before, kind of a mixture between maroon and rose, then he proceeded to dub me with some pretty colorful expletives. Some I've never even heard before."

Rory shook her head in slight exasperation, "You two are something else…Impish is a whole 'nother level with you two."

Riley shot her a mock offended look, "Hey, Gilmore. Life can be boring at times, and the world needs people like me and TJ to break it out of its tedium. I find that I am doing mankind a favor by disrupting the monotony. There's nothing wrong with a bit of mischief. In my personal, and humble, opinion, Puck should be worshipped as a deity…"

Rory sighed, "Well, at least you've appeased my intelligence by alluding to _A Midsummer Night's Dream_…"

Riley laughed, adjusting the broad silver cuff encircling his left wrist, "Hey, Shakespeare might have been a horny, disenchanted white guy, but he knew how to make characters." He quirked a teasing eyebrow at the girl across from him.

"You know, Gilmore, only you would catch on an allusion to Shakespeare during summer vacation."

Rory smiled sadly, "Tristan said the same thing to me once. Is there some neuron that the two of you share or do you just think alike?"

Riley laughed, "It could be either, I wouldn't know." The tall brunette shrugged, "I guess it comes from being so close. We do spend an awful amount of time together."

Rory giggled, "I noticed. Are you two ever apart?"

Riley smirked, "You mean dismissing the school year? Can't really say no…He's just about the only family I have. My mom's in New York but her shows keep her away a lot of the time. TJ's pretty much the only stability I've had in a long time and as close to family as I'm gonna get."

Riley dipped his head, "I guess I just kinda need that kind of comfort from time to time, and the Dugreys have basically adopted me as part of the family. Call it some kind of complex, if you will, but I tend to stay attached for a long time."

Rory nodded, "I'm not sure I've had the same experiences, but I know what you mean…"

Riley's pale pewter eyes shone with an evocative sheen, "Yeah, well, the good ones always stick around, whether you're aware of it or not…"

At Rory's slightly astonished expression, Riley heaved a dramatic sigh, a cunning smile curving his face, "Ah, I believe I have said too much." Straightening from his chair, Riley gathered the book and notebook laid out along his table, stuffing them into his black messenger bag before tossing his empty coffee cup in the nearby trash. Turning back to Rory, he tipped an imaginary cap, leaning over in a theatrical bow.

"Miss Gilmore, I bid you adieu until tonight while I wait with sardonic anxiety to once again be graced with the presence of socialites with faux personalities and even more artificial body parts…"

With a roguish wink and a cheeky waggle of his fingers, Riley departed. Rory gazed after him. Three years ago, she had deemed Riley Beaumont "some kind of different," and that factor about him had not changed. He was still as loyal as ever to both herself and Tristan. Rory sighed, contemplating Riley's final words. Every time Riley Beaumont spoke, an insinuation lay beneath his intelligent and eloquent terminology, the meaning sometimes more shrouded than others. His parting statement resonated soundly in her consciousness: the good ones stick around whether you're aware of it or not. Rory shook her head. Surely he wasn't alluding to Tristan. Because as far as she knew, it was brutally apparent that Tristan Dugrey wanted nothing to with her. Rory leaned back in her chair. These were the times she really needed Lorelai.

- - -

Half an hour away in Stars Hollow, Lorelai Gilmore sighed, propping her chin on her fist. Idly, she gazed down into the coffee lying in front of her as the slight tendrils of steam floated up from the deep brown liquid. Normally at this time, she and Rory would be situated at a table, conversing over the day's events and gossiping over what she had heard, all while gulping down absurd amounts of coffee, but as Lorelai's deep blue eyes shifted over to the empty seat beside her, reality resounded in her despondent mind viciously evident. In reality, her daughter was probably out at some country club in Harford, schmoozing with socialites and conversing about the daily scandal wracking the blue bloods.

Lorelai thought back to that fateful day when her daughter packed her things, fleeing to Hartford. It was a habitual occurrence with the younger Lorelai: when the situation got difficult, Rory ran. Lorelai thought back at the many times: during the first break-up with Dean, to Jess in New York that day of Lorelai's graduation from business school, and to Europe after giving Tristan her virginity. Lorelai shook her head, remembering all the times she, herself, had run from the oppressive fist of Emily Gilmore. Rory was more like herself than the elder Gilmore could ever imagine; although, instead of running away from Hartford society, Rory was running to it.

Another heavy sigh wracked her chest, upending the strands of hair that dangled before eyes, and she glanced up as two flannel-covered forearms plopped themselves down into her line of vision. Lorelai glanced up into the scruffy, baseball cap-clad, concerned face of Luke Danes.

"Are you okay?"

Lorelai fingered the rim of the mug, her brilliant blue eyes clouding over with the emotions running rampant where no one could see. Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Lorelai shrugged, meeting his warm, brown gaze.

"I don't know, Luke…it's just…"

"You miss her, don't you, Lor?" Luke supplied, placing a large, calloused hand atop of hers.

Helplessly, Lorelai allowed her head to bob up and down, "I can't help it, Luke. She's my best friend, and although I love being with you, and I can't believe we're getting married…"

"You wanted to share this with her. You wanted Rory to be the first person you told." Luke finished, nodding his head in comprehension. Craning his head downward, Luke frowned at the contemplative glint veiled within the somber appearance of her blue eyes.

"Is there something else?"

Slowly, Lorelai's head tilted to the side, "I just keep thinking about…Tristan."

Luke jerked in surprise, "Tristan?" He tried to lighten her mood, "Ah, I knew you've been cheating on me with a younger guy."

"What can I say? I like 'em vigorous," Lorelai deadpanned, her eyes still downcast."

Luke quirked a small smile at the answer, "So what exactly about Tristan have you been thinking about?"

Lorelai's shoulders lifted in a shrug, "I just wonder, if she and Tristan hadn't let whatever is keeping them away from each other come between them, this mess with Logan wouldn't have happened." Lorelai glanced at Luke.

"You know, last summer. They…slept together."

"WHAT?" Customers in the diner jumped at his sudden outburst. His features contorted into a scowl, Luke began to irately pace.

"That punk…I knew he was gonna try something like that. I just _knew_ it. I can't believe I actually liked that kid…I'm gonna -"

Lorelai grabbed his hand, forcing him to a halt, "Luke, it's fine. She initiated it."

Luke's features softened slightly as he growled, "Do you think that's why they haven't been talking?"

Lorelai sighed, "I don't know. After he left, she couldn't stop gushing about him. He was so sweet, he was so gentle, all of that. She was really happy, and I could have sworn something changed with them. I mean, everyone was sure they…"

"Were eventually gonna get together, yeah." Luke affirmed, remembering the gossip that had run madcap through Stars Hollow once Rory dumped Dean.

Lorelai nodded her head, "Yeah. I mean, what's between them is something…different. There's something that wasn't there when she was with Dean or Jess. I really thought either relationship had lasting power. But then, a few weeks later, he just…disappears. No phone calls, no visits, no nothing."

"I noticed. They were really close. He used to come down here at least twice a week." Luke mused, "What happened?"

Lorelai sighed, "I don't know much. Rory never told me the whole thing. I can only gather that whatever happened between them scared the hell out of her, so she reacted in true Gilmore fashion."

"She pushed him away?"

Lorelai shrugged, "Probably." Lorelai sniffled, glancing away, her eyes suddenly sparking with anger, "She promised, Luke. She pinky promised. And you know how I feel about pinky promises."

Luke chuckled, "To violate a pinky promise is finding out the world's coffee supply has come to an abrupt end."

Lorelai dipped her head down, "She promised me she'd never let a boy come between us."

Luke cocked an eyebrow, "But hasn't this happened before? I mean, what about with Jess and all?"

Lorelai shook her head, "It wasn't to the extent that she had to flee to Hartford to get away from me…"

Luke leaned in, brushing a reassuring kiss across her lips. Tenderly, he stroked her cheek, the thumb of his other hand fingering the diamond ring gracing the third finger of her left hand.

"Hey, Lor. Everything is gonna turn out fine. You two share such a bond that it can't be severed so easily. Just give it time…"

Lorelai nodded, kissing Luke in gratitude, "I hope so, Diner Man, otherwise I'm cutting you off…"

- - -

Tristan glanced at the mirror before him. A frown on his face, he fought the resisting tie around his neck. Finally arranging the knot, he tightened the tie around his neck, the accessory feeling very much like a noose. Stepping back, he took in his appearance. To the world, he looked like a perfect society boy. His black suit was tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly, and the light sapphire dress shirt and tie striped with different shades of blue brought out his piercing eyes as the matching pale sapphire handkerchief sat prominently in his breast pocket. The only thing marring his otherwise pristine appearance was his hair, tousled and unkempt as always in their array of spikes. Idly, he scratched the stubble adorning his chin. Tristan Dugrey, society boy, was ready to please the masses.

"Well don't you look dapper…"

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at his best friend. Riley leaned against the doorway of his room, his hands casually stuck in his pockets. Tristan smirked, shrugging.

"I prefer suave…"

Riley chuckled, fiddling with the cuffs of his gray dress shirt before fixing the matching gray tie. Against the pewter of his tie and shirt, his gray eyes stood out strikingly when paired with the black of the suit jacket and pants highlighted with barely visible gray pinstripes. Running a hand through his unruly hair, Riley sighed.

"Dude, look at us, TJ. We're socialites…"

Tristan laughed, clapping a hand on Riley's shoulder, "Hardly, Beau. You and I broke out of that mold a long time ago."

Riley grinned, twirling the platinum band encircling his right ring finger, "And yet, we're still yanked by the tie to these functions."

"Aw, stop complaining, the both of you. I had to entertain myself when you two fled to college…"

Tristan and Riley simultaneously swiveled to face Alexandra Dugrey as she sauntered into the room. A pale rose halter dress complimented her fit figure, swirling around her ankles as her luxurious blonde hair flowed down her delicate shoulders in light waves. Tristan smiled, drawing his sister into an embrace.

"You missed me, Lex, didn't you?"

Alex quirked a smile, rolling her eyes, "Don't flatter yourself, Tris." Shifting her eyes to her brother's best friend, Alex playfully smacked Riley on the stomach.

"Riley here was the one suffering from an attachment complex."

Riley laughed, snatching the younger Dugrey off her feet as he twirled her around. Setting her down on the floor, Riley kept a protective arm around her waist. Tristan caught the gesture, brushing it off before turning his attention to his sister.

"So how did the first year at Yale treat you?"

Alex smiled brightly, nodding her head eagerly, "It went well."

Tristan narrowed his eyes, a meaningful glare exchanged between the two siblings, "No…_problems_?" He inquired, stressing the final word.

Alex shifted nervously, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Almost imperceptibly, her eyes flicked over to Riley's silently pleading with him not to respond. His mouth tightened, but the tall brunette inclined his head slightly, conceding to the younger Dugrey. Flashing a charming smile towards her brother, Alex shook her head, "Nope, nothing…" Alex let out a weak chuckle.

"Riley was pretty much on my ass the whole time. He scared everyone away…charmed a bunch of my friends, too. They're all swooning over him."

Tristan fell silent, studying his younger sister. The last year had changed the vibrant, effervescent spirit of his sibling. The once lively, wide, blue eyes had dulled in appearance with the events that had occurred, the once pulsating spark that twinkled with her audacity, faded considerably. She had been deflated, crushed, her innocence gone and her essence injured. Bitterly, Tristan fought the tears that wormed their way up his throat, cursing the bastard that had broken his beautiful younger sister. She didn't deserve what happened to her; no one did. And hell was to pay if he ever crossed Tristan's path again…

Olivia Dugrey's voice cut through his ponderings as his mother poked her head into the doorway, a martini glass dutifully clutched in her elegant grasp, "Boys, Alex, the guests are beginning to arrive."

Tristan nodded, his hand drifting up to unconsciously adjust his tie, "Yeah, Mom, we'll be right down."

Offering his arm out to his sister, Tristan led her and Riley down the stairs to the guests beginning to swarm into the house. The trio glanced down, disdain carefully shrouded beneath a cool façade of casualty and indifference. The swarms of Hartford's elite trapeze in, laughing with gaiety and charm, looking down at their counterparts with forced emotions of superiority. Tristan sighed heavily; this was the world he was born into, the world that had wrenched him away from reality. And he despised every facet of it.

- - -

Riley stood casually among the swirling masses of socialites gathered to welcome back one of their most prestigious elite. The Dugrey name was unprecedented along the east coast, considered one of the most privileged within the bluest of the blue-bloods, the Dugrey legacy enduring for generations. Catching the eye of many a female circulating the room, Riley acknowledged the lingering stares with an inclination of his head.

"Ah, Riley, there you are!"

Taking a sip of his scotch, Riley rotated to face Olivia Dugrey as she approached him. His easy grin overtaking his face, Riley beamed down at Tristan's mother.

"I find it hard to believe you would be looking for me, Mrs. Dugrey. I am, after all, only the best friend." Riley teased the woman who had been so friendly to him over the years

Laughing, Olivia dismissed his claim with a wave of her graceful hand, "Oh, you. You have much to be proud of, Riley, with the success of your writing career."

Riley blushed, "It's not much of a career quite yet. I've only written one book."

Olivia gazed fondly at her son's best friend, "Nonsense, Riley. You have still done well. Come, there are a few people I'd like you to meet."

In a move strongly reminiscent of four years prior, Riley acquiesced as Olivia tugged him along by the sleeve of his suit. The pair halted before a party of four men, two of whom looked around Riley's age. Olivia waved a hand at the quartet.

"Riley Beaumont, I'd like you to meet a few friends of the family. Dominic Sanderson and his son Duncan and Carson Bowman and his son Craig." Turning to the elder pair of the four men, Olivia gestured to Riley.

"Gentlemen, Riley Beaumont, Tristan's best friend. He attended Amherst with Tristan."

Dominic Sanderson glanced up at the tall youth with an appraising eye, "Interesting. How did you fare, Riley?"

Adopting a casual lean, Riley nodded his head, "I did well, sir. I was the highest ranking cadet in the senior class, and I graduated behind Tristan as salutatorian."

Carson Bowman cocked an eyebrow, "And you attend…?"

"Yale, sir."

Carson nodded, "An excellent school." He turned a disgusted eye to his son, "I'm afraid Craig was unable to attain the grades to attend such a fine school…"

Dominic shifted his eyes from his friend, "And what do you plan to do once you have graduated?"

Riley glanced down at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, "Actually, Mr. Sanderson, I am actually set in my career…"

Dominic cocked an interested eyebrow, "Really. You are now?"

Riley nodded, "Yes, sir. I'm a writer."

"A rather successful one at that," Olivia chimed in, "His book has been on the national best-seller lists for quite some time."

It was Carson's turn to cock an eyebrow, "Is that so? I don't seem to recognize your name, Mr. Beaumont, nor your writing."

Riley stiffened under the scrutinizing stare, "Well, sir, that is because I write under a penname: R. Daniel Chase. Perhaps you've heard of the book, _Running in my Skivvies: The Chronicles of Military School_?"

Carson nodded, his dark eyes shining with approval, "As a matter of fact, I have. Many a good thing has been said about that particular work." Carson's eyes subtly flicked over to his son as he swiveled to Olivia.

"I'm glad Tristan has such a thriving best friend, Olivia. Not to mention how well your son has been doing at Stanford. I'm pleased to hear he hasn't let that unfortunate incident with my safe impede his achievements."

Riley shifted uncomfortably as Duncan and Bowman both mumbled something in response to Carson's statement. Neither boy had gone to college, and both were both working in his father's company. Desperate for an escape route as the conversation diverted from himself, Riley scanned the room. Rotating his head, his eyes landed on the graceful figure of Alexandra Dugrey. Holding back a sigh of relief, he returned his attention to the four men, and Riley offered out his hand.

"It was a pleasure meeting you all, but if you'd excuse me, I see an acquaintance."

- - -

Alex slid through the room, smiling at the many socialites that acknowledged her. Lounging near the piano situated in the ballroom, Alex surveyed the activity around her. Normally, she would be circulating the room, chatting up any and every person who had the opportunity to cross her path while fending off the many advances from the sons of her parent's high-bred friends with a blithe quip and a coy smile. But that was the past, and as much as Alex wished for her life to revert to the simpler times of high-school, the younger Dugrey was brutally aware that was not possible. Easing herself down to a chair situated on the side of the ballroom floor, Alex absently ran her hands over her stomach as she took in the ambiance of the cold, unfeeling world she had grown up in.

"Such a frown on such a lovely face."

Rolling her eyes at the deep, gravelly voice, Alex quirked an eyebrow at the tall and lofty form of Riley Beaumont as his pale gray eyes twinkled down at her from his height.

"You were always so smooth. I though being a writer would sharpen your words, not dull them."

Riley smiled widely, the dimples appearing on the corners of his cheeks, "Simple explanation, Ali. I save my glib and eloquent vocabulary for my novels."

Alex shook her head, amusement shining through her features, "And there it is. You can talk your way out of anything, can't you, Beaumont?"

Riley grinned, not abashed in the slightest, "Yep…" His mouth curving into the roguish and charming grin he was well known for, Riley offered out a hand, "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

Alex rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Yeah, that wasn't clichéd…"

Riley chuckled, the deep and rumbling sound sending shivers rocking across her spine, "Things become clichéd for a reason, Ali…" Gracefully, he twirled her into his arms, pulling her flush against his leanly muscular body. One arm twined securely around her waist, his hand supporting the small of her back, Riley grasped her palm in his, holding their hands to his chest. Dipping his head, his intense gray eyes bore into hers.

"How have you been?"

Alex shrugged, leaning her head back to meet his eyes that lay a good five inches taller than her, "Okay…I guess."

Riley's stare hardened as he searched the dark blue spheres of his best friend's sister, "Have you run into him since…"

Alex shook her head, "No."

Pulling her even closer to him, Riley lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. Alex allowed her eyes to drift shut at their closeness, melting at the tender glint to the expressive spheres of his eyes. Their bodies swaying to the music, and Riley's hand skimmed upward from its place at her waist to gently run a finger down her cheek.

"Hey, you have any problems, you come to me, okay? I can't stand to see you sad…"

Dazedly, Alex nodded. Satisfied, Riley drew her back into their dance. Alex closed her eyes, laying her cheek against his broad shoulder. Through her hardest time, Riley had been there for her, his arms outstretched, ready to catch her, doggedly filling Tristan's role as her elder brother attended school on the other end of the country. The connection she had felt for his tall, handsome best friend ignited again with the more time they spent together, and unwillingly, the tears welled up in Alex's wide eyes. But they would never be more than friends, Riley had been adamant about that factor. His friendship with her brother was valuable to him, and although Alex understood the "unwritten rule," that nagging emotion still plagued away at her heart. Many times, she had tried to push away her affections for Riley Beaumont, the guy she could never be with, but with each attempt, he had revealed another facet of his amazing character that had Alex swooning all over again. The younger Dugrey sighed. She had fallen hard for Riley Beaumont. She was a goner, for sure.

Riley relaxed as Alex lay her head down on his shoulder. Determinedly, he forced himself not to be affected by the gorgeous blonde who danced in his arms. He avowed he would never cross that border line with Alex the first time they had met, and he stayed firm to that promise, no matter what. She was his best friend's sister, and Riley rather valued his life, aware of the extent of Tristan's anger if someone had in any way defiled his sister. There was an unwritten rule between friends that sisters were off-limits, and Riley struggled to keep his emotions under a carefully constructed visage that with every interaction, threatened to crumble. He knew a relationship with his best friend's sister would only prove to be complicated and only invoke awkward tensions; he knew the chance he would be taking to involve himself in something potentially damaging. So, he had kept his distance. But in the wake of all that occurred during her senior year at Chilton, Riley felt the intangible pull of his heart draw him in another direction. His eyes drifted down to settle on the luxurious golden locks of Alexandra Dugrey, Tristan's younger sister, and Riley shifted as his affections balanced precariously on the brink of a very thin line, each second nudging him forward even more over the boundary he straddled.

As Alex snuggled even closer to him as they swayed on the dance floor, Riley felt his steely tenacity slowly begin to wane away, and he cursed the arrogant bastard who had brought her to this state, stomping on her heart and shooting the vibrant, vivacious Alex of the past to the ghost of the girl enveloped in his arms. Riley stiffened slightly at the memory. When he had heard what had happened, he snapped, confronting the asshole and introducing him to the beauties of his fist. Since then, Riley had toiled hard to console the distraught girl, but even after two years, the old Alex had failed to be revived, and with each day that had passed, and his emotions slowly inched closer to the forbidden boundary. He couldn't do this. He had sworn he couldn't. There was no way that he would. Riley repeated that mantra in his mind, determined to remain unyielding in his stance. But as the vulnerable sapphire eyes of Alexandra Dugrey met his own pewter spheres, gratitude and affection prominent within the pale blue depths, Riley felt his heart clench. His mind and his heart battled incessantly within, desperately trying to rationalize with himself. There were so many complications to this relationship; so much could possibly go wrong. But as every solid rebuff of the pesky voice resonated in his head, Riley's stubborn heart beat back twice as hard, contending with stronger pleadings and reasonings, berating its owner. Riley withheld a sigh of defeat as he succumbed to the blatant truth of his emotions. Dammit, he _did_ have feelings for Alexandra Dugrey. Tristan was gonna kill him.

- - -

Tristan smiled to himself as he watched Riley twirl his sister around the dance floor, Alex's eyes lighting up with happiness. The only time Tristan had truly seen his sister happy was whenever she was with Riley. With what had happened her senior year at Chilton, Tristan regretted being on the other end of the country, but he had been satisfied with the fact Riley had been there to support his younger sister. Tristan's heart warmed as he saw Alex respond to Riley's effortless candor and dramatic gestures. For some strange and inexplicable reason, his best friend and younger sister had always shared some kind of weird connection between them. They had insane inside jokes that only the two of them seemed to understand and a similar sense of humor that could only be described as warped.

As he surveyed the room, his eyes settled on the familiar form of Paris Gellar as she lazed to the side of the festivities, her arms dutifully crossed with her perpetual scowl adorned on her face. Tristan cocked an eyebrow, noticing Paris' attention focused on a certain six foot-three, brunette locked, gray eyed best friend of his. Sidling up to his longtime friend, a nostalgic smirk gracing his countenance, Tristan leaned in low to Paris' ear.

"What do you say you and me go find somewhere quieter?"

Paris jerked, whirling to verbally beat down whoever was behind her when she glanced up into Tristan's smirking mug. Rolling her eyes, she relaxed, returning to her former position absent of antagonism.

"After all these years, Dugrey, you still have your radar set on 'annoy Paris' mode?"

Tristan dutifully grinned, nodding his head, "Well, we do go back to the sandbox, Gellar…" He gently nudged the smaller woman in front of her.

"So where's your lapdog?"

Paris glowered up into his laughing blue eyes, "If you mean Doyle, he's…not here."

Tristan quirked an eyebrow, "Really now? Not here, meaning he will never be present or not here, meaning just not at this exact moment."

Paris narrowed her eyes, "The former. We're on a break."

Tristan nodded, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Paris shrugged, "Well, I never had that great of luck with guys in the first place…"

Tristan shifted slightly, "Or you just threw away the luck you did have…?"

Paris stared right back, "Don't you dare, Dugrey."

Tristan smirked, "Ooh! She's breaking out the alliteration! Well, I'm gyrating in my Gucci's, Gellar."

Paris shook her head in exasperation, "Look, I know I screwed up with Riley, but in my defense, I was scared."

"Of what?" Tristan questioned.

"Of what he was making me feel," Paris admitted, her eyes diverting from his penetrating stare to the ground. "I mean, I was falling for Riley, and I was falling really hard and really fast. It scared me. I didn't know how to handle this onslaught of emotions that I felt for him, especially since I'd only known him for a few days." Paris shrugged.

"So, I guess I reacted in the way that would best protect my heart…"

"You pushed him away." Tristan stated.

Paris nodded, affirming his assertion, "Yeah. I mean, what I was feeling was scary, Tristan. Those emotions were so…strong, so potent that I didn't know what to do with them. I knew that Riley had the potential to break me, and I didn't exactly savor the fact that I wasn't in control of what I was feeling." Paris glanced away, contemplating her thoughts.

"But, I guess that's what everyone does in that kind of situation…"

"You think so?" Tristan inquired, a pensive expression gracing his countenance.

"Yeah." Paris admitted, "When such a poignant feeling enters your conscience, it's unnerving because it's so strong, and sometimes you just can't deal with it; you don't know how to, so you choose not to. You push the person away at first. How far, of course, always depends on the level of security each person feels."

Tristan frowned in contemplation as he absorbed Paris' words. He paused to ponder the words his longtime friend had spoken. Thinking about his current situation with Rory, he wondered if that was her reason for pushing him away. Maybe she had been scared with what he knew they both had felt. To be honest, it had scared him too. He had never felt the way he did with Rory with anyone else, and Tristan was aware he had many experiences to make a selection from. Tristan dragged his gaze back to Paris, a small, somber smile curving his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess you do push the person away…"

- - -

Rory jumped as a warm hand covered hers as she fidgeted nervously in the close confines of the car she was situated in. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Logan Huntzberger.

"You okay there, Ace?"

Rory cleared her throat as his warm, brown eyes stared down at her, crinkling at the corners. Forcing a nonchalant smile on her face, she nodded, "Yeah. I'm fine, Logan. Why do you ask?"

Rory dipped her head, tearing her gaze away from his inquisitive stare as Logan shrugged, "I denno. You just look like you're dreading this party more than the usual quota. What's so bad about this party?"

Rory blushed, "It's just…I'm kind of nervous."

"Because?" Logan prodded, gesturing for her to continue.

Rory anxiously straightened the thick fabric of her coat, "I…haven't seen him for a long time."

"'Him?'" Logan echoed, cocking an eyebrow, "This party is for a him? What is he, an ex?"

Rory shifted nervously, "No. Not really. He's my best friend, and I haven't seen him for almost a year…He goes to college at Stanford."

"Your best friend?" Logan frowned, "I thought Gellar was your best friend…"

"Active best friend," Rory mumbled, glancing down as she twisted her hands in her lap, "I haven't spoken to him in a long time. Uh, it's been hard since he's on the opposite coast during the school year, but he's the guy who knows me better than anyone…"

"Even me?" Logan pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

Rory let out a weak chuckle, "Yeah, Logan. Even you."

Logan smirked, "Well, in that case, I definitely can't wait to meet him…"

Rory rotated her head to stare out the window, hoping Logan didn't catch her grimace, "Yeah. I'm sure he'll love you…"

Logan's cheeky smirk widened, "Of course. If anything, I'll dazzle him with my wealth and prestigious name…"

Rory snorted, "Don't bother with that approach, Logan. Considering his family is the wealthiest in Hartford, I doubt your bank account would affect him in any way."

Logan threw out a dramatic sigh, "Well, then, I guess I'll just have to settle with my charming personality."

Rory giggled, shaking her head, "Pair that with your amazing humility and we'll be all set."

Logan reached over, twining his fingers with hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze, "Don't worry, Ace. I'll make a good impression with this guy, I promise."

Rory smiled gratefully, "Thanks, Logan. That means a lot."

Bringing her fingers to his lips, Logan brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles, "Anything for you, Ace."

As the tires of Logan's Jaguar ground against the gravel of the sprawling driveway of an enormous estate, Logan whistled softly as they exited the car.

"Damn…"

Rory nodded, remembering her own reaction to Tristan's house, "I concur."

Logan cocked an eyebrow, "You weren't kidding when you said this guy's rich…"

Rory shrugged, "He doesn't flaunt it. It doesn't really affect him."

Logan held out a hand, "Are you ready?"

Rory braced herself, patting down her hair and straightening the skirt of her dress, "I suppose so…" Taking a deep breath, she stretched a shaking hand out, one elegant finger pressing the illuminated button on the doorframe.

- - -

The haunting, gothic melody of the Dugrey doorbell alerted Tristan's senses, and he swiveled to the foyer, catching a glimpse of the newest arrival. His breath hitched slightly in his throat as the stunning figure of Rory Gilmore slid into his line of vision. She looked absolutely radiant, a pale blue evening dress hugging the matured curves of her body, the flimsy skirt swirling around her calves. Her luxurious chocolate hair was swept up in a simple French twist, her wispy bangs falling onto her forehead. Tristan felt himself take a step closer, his gaze holding on her lovely face as she leaned in to press a welcoming kiss to his mother's cheek before Olivia Dugrey made her way back across the room. Tristan slowly made his way across the crowded ballroom floor, closer to the girl he hadn't seen in a year. Even now, after all that time, she still had the same innocent allure to her persona. He forced himself to maintain his disgruntled demeanor towards her, but seeing her radiant countenance, Tristan could feel his anger ebbing away. Damn her…he was almost in speaking range before he halted as a blonde man sidled up to her, snaking an arm around her waist. Tristan's heart shuddered to a halting, screeching stop as he gazed into the light brown eyes that had haunted the nightmares of more than one Dugrey.

- - -

Riley gently twirled Alex around, pulling her back into his embrace. Leaning down to the younger Dugrey, Riley smiled.

"You having a good time?"

Alex scooted closer, lying her head in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, nodding, "Yeah, I am."

Riley pulled back slightly. Cupping her chin, he brought her eyes to meet his, "Ali, there's something I should tell you."

Alex gazed up into his pale silver eyes, shining with an emotion not normally prevalent in the light orbs. Tentatively, she tensed, unsure of how to brace herself to what he was about to reveal.

"What is it?"

Riley opened his mouth, but the words failed to splutter out. Mentally, he cursed himself. He was a writer for God's sake, known for his wit and expression, and yet he couldn't convey his emotions to the woman before him. He drew a blank. After a few moments of desperately searching for eloquence in the thoughts running rampant in his mind, Riley shook his head, growling.

"Ah, screw it."

Leaning down, he drew her even closer in his embrace, intent on showing Alex his emotions when a solid body rushing across the room brushed up against him. Raising his head in confusion, Riley frowned as Tristan stalked across the floor to a couple near the entrance. Riley stiffened as the smug, arrogant visage he despised so adamantly leered into the crowd. Whipping his head back to the younger Dugrey, Riley could only watch helplessly as she jerked herself out of his embrace a stricken, agonized sheen to her beautiful face before rushing towards the stairs into the safe abode of her room. Shifting his head from Tristan's retreating back to the staircase, Riley hesitated, unsure of which Dugrey to pursue. Wincing as Tristan's fist drew back, Riley groaned, knifing through the socialites in chase of his best friend.

- - -

Rory smiled as Logan bent his head, whispering into her ear, "So where is this charmer I'm supposed to meet?"

Rory wriggled out of his embrace, her head swiveling around the room, she lightly smacked his arm, "He's here, this is after all his house, and you all over me is not gonna make the best impression…"

Logan dismissed her claim with a haughty wave of his hand, "Ah, don't worry. I've got it covered, Ace. No one can resist the Huntzberger charm…"

Rory brightened as Tristan made his way across the room, but her smile faded at the fierce glint to his steely blue eyes. Instantly, she recognized that look. It was the look he adopted when Dean and Jess had both insulted her; it was the look he adopted on the eve of throwing out a punch. Her gaze fixated on Tristan, Rory failed to see the flash of fear skating through the visage of her boyfriend as he spotted Tristan approaching. The shorter blonde man considered bolting, knowing what was coming. Sure enough as soon as Logan was within range, Tristan lashed out in a vicious punch, catching the shorter blonde man across the face. Hauling him back up by his collar, Tristan struck out again, his face contorted into an expression of grim satisfaction as Logan tumbled backwards. Rory could only gape in astonishment as Riley shoved through the spectators, yanking Tristan up by the arms as he struggled to get back to Logan, roaring against Riley's firm grip to Logan moaning in pain on the ground.

"You've got some nerve showing your face around here, Huntzberger, after the shit you pulled!"

Shocked, Rory's eyes snapped down to her boyfriend as he flopped onto his stomach, wincing from the blood seeping from both his nose and mouth, his left eye beginning to bruise. Tristan pulled against the insistent hold Riley had around his body.

"C'mon, Beau, let me at 'im…the bastard deserves everything I dish out and more."

Rory shifted nervously at the dangerous tone to Tristan's voice, his light blue eyes flashing with unbridled rage, his deep voice lowered to an infuriated growl. Riley gripped Tristan's shoulders, forcing the pale blue eyes to begrudgingly meet his own. His voice lowered to a commanding tone, Riley began to placate his best friend.

"Hey." Riley jerked Tristan's attention back to himself as the blonde's eyes whipped back to Logan, "Hey." Riley repeated, shaking Tristan slightly.

"She needs you, now."

At the statement, the aggressive, irate luster to Tristan's sapphire spheres faded, replaced by a tender, placid glint as he relaxed. Glancing up to Riley, Tristan calmed immediately.

"Where is she?"

Riley hitched his head to the second floor, "Upstairs."

Nodding, Tristan gestured back to the bloodied Logan, "What about…"

Riley cut him off, "I'll take care of him. Go."

Tristan nodded, consenting to the order before he swiveled, rushing to the ornate staircase serving as a boundary to the rooms of the Dugrey house. Halting, he rotated back, locking eyes with Logan for a moment, the rage present once again.

"You set foot in this neighborhood again, I swear you'll get exactly what you deserve."

From his position on the ground, Logan swallowed hard, inching back against the baseboard, using the wall to tow himself to his feet. He stiffened once again as Riley advanced on him, a livid gleam to the gray eyes that normally winked amiably. Riley's sonorous voice deepened, his words emitted from his throat in a low growl.

"You must be some kind of stupid to come here, Hamburger."

Logan sneered up at the taller boy hovering half a foot over him, "How the hell was I supposed to know Rocky over there lived here?"

"You read the really big letters adorned on the entrance gate, idiot." Riley retorted, knowing full-well the name Dugrey was displayed prominently to every person who entered the grounds.

Logan snarled, "Well, I'm here, aren't I? So, what're you gonna do, Beaumont? Beat me down like Dugrey did?"

Riley bit out a scoff, "Please, Hamburger, you're not worth my sweat. I got my shots in, or do you not remember that day?"

Logan tensed visibly as he stared up into the cold slits of gray, the aforementioned day resonating very solidly in his mind, "Those were cheap shots, Beaumont."

Riley cocked a sardonic eyebrow, "Really, all ten of them?" Looming over the shorter blonde, Riley's eyes burned into Logan's.

"Now, you're gonna listen, and you better listen well, you are gonna use that brain God wasted on you, and you're gonna walk away and not come back. You will never call her again. You will never speak to her again, and God help you if you ever touch her again. You are never to even look at her. Because you know what's gonna happen." Riley growled.

"That day, Hamburger, will seem like a stroll through the park after what I'll put you through."

Logan bristled, gazing haughtily up at Riley through the blood trickling down his face, "That a threat, Beaumont?"

Riley quirked a mysterious smile, "That's a promise."

Seeing he was losing the battle, Logan turned, his chin jutting out defiantly, "Fine. Let's go, Rory."

Rory's head shifted back and forth in an emphatic shake as she snapped out of her daze, remembering where she was. Logan's voice lowered to a growl at her lack of movement.

"Rory! Come on!"

Again, Rory shook her head, "I can't, Logan."

Logan squared up to her, tilting his head in annoyance, "What?"

Rory pleaded with her boyfriend, "Logan, Grandma and Grandpa will kill me if I bolt from this party."

Logan huffed in disgust, whipping to the door, "Fine. I'll call you, Ace." As he stalked through the front door, Rory turned back to Riley ushering everyone away from the scene. Rory approached the tall brunette as he leaned against a pillar, running his hands through the thick hair atop of his head.

"Riley?"

At his name, Riley jerked straight, his pale gray eyes shadowed with fatigue. Languidly, he quirked a weak smile, "Salutations, Miss Gilmore…"

Rory tentatively shuffled forward, confusion apparent in the light blue depths of her eyes, "Uh, what was that about?"

Riley's mouth curved into a feeble smile, "Ah, you would be referring to the wonderful bout of inexplicable rage in our good friend Mr. Dugrey…"

Rory sheepishly nodded, and Riley hefted a deep and labored sigh, "Look, if you're looking for an answer, I'm not the person you should be talking to."

"But you obviously know what's going on…" Rory ventured before another sigh wracked through Riley's chest.

"But it's not my place to tell," He interrupted gently. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Riley shook his head dazedly, "This should be coming from either TJ or Logan. The only reason I'm in anyway involved in this is solely because I made myself be."

"Riley…" At Rory's pleading expression, Riley exhaled, his eyebrows drawing together in consideration.

"Okay, listen, I'm going upstairs to talk to TJ, and I'll tell him that you want to know what's up. Whether he chooses to tell you, that's up to him, and he'll find you. Deal?"

Rory grasped the proffered hand, shaking it, "Deal."

Riley nodded, "Okay. I'll have him find you if he wants to tell."

As Rory disappeared into the crowd of socialites, the latest incident long forgotten in lieu of the newest Hartford scandal, Riley allowed his eyes to drift upward to the staircase where his best friend sat huddled close to his baby sister. Fate sure did hate Tristan…

- - -

Tristan battled with himself to calm, the short, halting sobs of his younger sister plunging the knife even deeper within his heart. Indolently, he rubbed her back, unable to provide any more comfort than his touch. Bitterly, he cursed Logan Huntzberger. The bastard had made her like this, breaking her spirit and dashing her dreams. Idly, he flexed his right hand, wishing he could have done more than just punch the loser. A soft knock towed the blonde away from his thoughts, and he locked eyes with Riley hovering at the doorway. As his best friend motioned to join him outside, Tristan leaned down, pressing a kiss to Alex's dampened hair before gently rising to join his friend.

Riley hitched a head in Alex's direction, "How is she?"

Tristan shrugged, the weariness evident in his bright eyes, "She's dealing. It was a bit of a shock to see him after taking so much effort to avoid him."

Riley nodded. Hesitating, he lurched forward with his next statement, "She wants to talk to you."

Tristan caught the meaningful glance thrown his way by his best friend. His brow furrowed in perplexity, "She doesn't know, does she?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "Do you really think he'd tell her?"

Tristan growled, "Dammit, I never condoned her choice in guys."

"Because she likes you, right?" Riley chided. At Tristan's halting look, he sighed, "Sorry. Habit." Glancing at his best friend, Riley shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit.

"You have to tell her, TJ. You're the one that has to talk to her."

Tristan grumbled low in his throat, "Dammit. I wanted to start talking to her again, but this wasn't the particular means I had in mind…" He turned a helpless gaze to Riley.

"What do I tell her, Beau?"

Riley shrugged, shaking his head as he locked eyes with his best friend, "The truth."

Tristan scoffed, "Truthfully, her boyfriend's a jackass…I don't think she wants to hear that."

"Whether or not she wants to hear it, she has to know, TJ. You're the only one that can tell her."

Tristan nodded, conceding to the situation. Gesturing back to Alex huddled on her bed, Tristan clapped a hand on Riley's shoulder, "Take care of her, huh?"

Riley's mouth curved in a tight smile, "I always do…"

In the process of turning away, Tristan halted, rotating back. Absently rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan dipped his head, "Look, I never did thank you, Beau. Y'know, for looking out for her."

Riley shrugged, running a hand through his hair, "You're my best friend, TJ, and she's your sister. Of course I'd look out for her."

Tristan quirked an eyebrow, meeting the gray eyes of his best friend, "You sure that's the only reason you did it?"

Before Riley could respond, Tristan rotated, heading down the stares. Riley stared at the empty space where his best friend once stood, his mouth slightly agape, the thoughts swirling in disarray in the depths of his psyche. Tristan couldn't...could he?

- - -

From a distance, Rory surveyed the room. Her searching eyes skidded to a stop on the broad back of Tristan Dugrey as he trumped down the staircase. His hair was even more unkempt than usual, as if he had run his hands through the unruly strands time and time again. He had loosened the pale blue tie around his neck, but kept the suit jacket buttoned. Even from her distance, Rory could see the dull sheen encompassing his normally lively eyes as Tristan meandered through the crowd as if in a daze, not stopping to converse with anyone, barely acknowledging the inquiring stares sent in his direction. As if his body was set on autopilot, he drifted through the double doors that led out to the backyard. Gathering her wits, Rory diffidently followed, knowing exactly where the troubled man was heading. As each step took her closer to Tristan, Rory felt a slight shock of apprehension seize her body as she approached him, unsure of the reception she would receive.

- - -

Tristan shifted as he stared out into the endless velvety black of the evening sky, the millions of luminous stars dotting the abyss. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, the sharp aroma of the clear pond swirling through his nostrils. Gazing out into the tranquil waters, a stark contrast to the frenzy of emotions plaguing his conscious, Tristan wished the turmoil within him would soon calm like the waters of the pond.

Irately, he raked a hand through the tousled tufts of his hair. Of all the men in the world, she had to be with him. Tristan cursed the target of his thoughts. He knew her taste in men was nothing to be desired, but surely, considering her indifference to himself in high school, she would be able to see through the mask of bullshit that was Logan Huntzberger.

Tristan stiffened as a hand fell lightly on his shoulder, the simple touch sending a wave of fire rolling through his body. This was the encounter he had dreaded since a year prior when he had roared away from her town and away from her that fateful day, and Tristan rotated, his deep blue eyes locking onto the wide sapphire gaze of Rory Gilmore. He braced himself as she opened her mouth, unsure of what her next utterance would reveal or even evoke, the words the first spoken between the two since last summer.

Rory stared into the endless depths of blue that were Tristan's eyes, and she glanced downward, unsure of how to begin. Finally, she pushed aside her contemplations, opting for a simple opening.

"Tristan…"

_And cut! Sorry to leave you all there, but I wanted some kind of suspense connected to their first interaction since the Fight. I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression that I don't like Logan – I do, very much so, actually – by making Logan the bad guy, but it is essential to this plot. Don't worry, Logan lovers, he will not be playing the bad guy the whole time. Just understand he, Tristan, and Riley all have history and that history is akin to warfare. So although interactions between Logan and Rory will be fluffy, the ones between the guys will not. But to all the Trory people, this is a TRORY, fear not. Logan is simply a…catalyst if you will. That will also be explained later._

_Stay tuned. This is a two-parter, and everything that is confusing will be answered in the next chapter!_

_Roxy_


	9. I've Thrown Away So Many Things, Part II

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything._

_Well, good readers, I have come back with another installment of this wonderful story. I'm sorry for keeping you all hanging, but you didn't think it would be that easy, did you? Anyway, some things will be clarified in this chapter: the Logan/Tristan/Alex/Riley situation, what really happened to Alex, why Tristan and Riley hate Logan, and what is to be of the Riley/Alex relationship? Plus, who is this mysterious Brandon Knox – that if you had bothered to retract a few chapters, may have caught a glimpse of his name mentioned more than once (hence my many warnings to pay attention to details) – that I keep alluding to? Many of these questions will be answered._

_So without further ado…Onward!_

**Chapter 9**

_I've Thrown Away So Many Things_

_That Could Have Been Much More, Part II_

_**Tristan stiffened as a hand fell lightly on his shoulder, the simple touch sending a wave of fire rolling through his body. This was the encounter he had dreaded since a year prior when he had roared away from her town and away from her that fateful day, and Tristan rotated, his deep blue eyes locking onto the wide sapphire gaze of Rory Gilmore. He braced himself as she opened her mouth, unsure of what her next utterance would reveal or even evoke, the words the first spoken between the two since last summer.**_

_**Rory stared into the endless depths of blue that were Tristan's eyes, and she glanced downward, unsure of how to begin. Finally, she pushed aside her contemplations, opting for a simple opening.**_

"_**Tristan…"**_

- - -

"Tristan…"

Tristan's tense body took its time as it rotated to face the girl who had haunted his dreams for the better part of a year. Her wide blue eyes bore into his, filled with a bewildered confusion. Tristan's own sapphire gaze hardened, his features drawn in a tight line before he turned away, reverting his eyes back to the tranquil waters of the small pond. Rory dropped her gaze, unable to impede the hurt at his cold disregard from wriggling though her heart. Rory was about to turn away, certain that he remained intent on ignoring her when he spoke, his resonant timbre cut through the strain between them.

"Well, I've always thought your choice of men was nothing to be desired, but after seeing the latest sap, I must say this bluntly, Rory." Tristan's gaze skimmed across to hers.

"Your choice in men sucks."

Rory whirled back, anger sparking in her blue eyes, "Excuse me?" she demanded, glaring furiously into Tristan's face.

Tristan squared up to her, an offhand glint in his hard spheres, "You heard me, Rory. Don't deny you didn't."

Rory bristled at his brusque tone, "Don't try to judge Logan, Tristan. You know nothing about him."

Tristan snorted, tossing his head back in annoyance, "I know more than you think, Rory, and I know _you_ even better."

Rory seethed, caught up in their stare down. Neither party yielded to the other, both refusing to defer, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Tristan met her eyes directly, the blue spheres hauntingly steady as they burned into hers, "It means, _Ace_," he mocked, putting an emphasis on the moniker, "that the thought of you with Logan Huntzberger is currently failing to permeate my comprehension."

Rory stared defiantly up at the man who stood across from her, furious at his scorn. "Would you mind clarifying, Tristan? Machismo is not in my vocabulary."

Tristan's face rotated in her direction, his features carefully controlled and impassive, "I mean, Rory, that Logan Huntzberger is simply an older, more idiotic version of my high-school self." Tristan snorted, "Have him grow a few inches, slap on a pair of colored contacts, and tweak his personality so that he's actually charming as opposed to abrasive, and hell, you could have a spitting image of me, complete with karate chop and multi-action laser…not that I'm particularly fond of that comparison."

Tristan whirled, pacing irately before he whipped back to the girl that had given him so much heartache and pain that, had he wrote down his sentiments, they would pass as a Dashboard Confessional song, "Dammit, Rory, you _hated_ me in high-school. You _hated_ the type of person that I was. So what changed? When did you suddenly obtain an attraction to jackasses?"

"Logan is different," Rory bit out in protest. Tristan cocked an eyebrow, the gesture filled with condescension.

"Really, Rory? Is he really that different than I was? Throwing away money, exchanging girls every week, flaunting his wealth? Better yet, explain to _how_ is he different? Because right now, maybe I'm just stupid, but the discrepancy is seriously escaping my intellectual capacity."

Tristan's voice barely reached a murmur, but the effect was chilling, and Rory would have preferred him yelling as opposed to this eerily restrained tone. Tristan's eyes burned steadily into hers, the smoldering spheres unyielding in their stare.

"You never gave me a second look back at Chilton, let alone agreed to date me." Tristan whispered, his temper fighting to stay curtailed, "And I distinctly remember your emphatic claim that 'I'd have to be stupid to think that, given our history, you would ever, barring a piano or a safe falling on your head, want to go anywhere with me, _ever_.'"

Rory gave an irritated toss of her head, "People amend things, Tristan. You should be aware of that."

Tristan refused to yield, "Yeah? Well, if I knew that, _Mary_, I wouldn't have done this complete 180. I would have stayed the same arrogant asshole I was when you met me. Then maybe I would have gotten that date." Tristan began to irately pace, "Dammit, Gilmore! You have no idea what it feels like to see you with _him_. Of all people, Rory, _HIM_."

"What do you have against Logan, Tristan?" Rory demanded, bearing down on the taller man, "What could possibly have you predisposed to punching out my boyfriend?"

Tristan sobered instantly, the infuriated sheen still present in his deep eyes but directed to another source, "You don't want to hear this from me, Gilmore." He answered, the bitterness evident in his voice.

"And why not?"

"Because your perfect image of your lover boy will be shot to hell," Tristan spat. "Excuse me while I'm still trying to comprehend the situation. For someone so ardent about staying away from me in high school, I would have never guessed _he_ was the guy you were dating. Especially since rumors around broadband Yale flow about three times faster than dial-up Chilton."

Tristan broke their stare, shaking his read morosely, "But I guess a year is sufficient time to change a person."

"I'm still me," Rory protested, frustrated at the man before her, his head shifting in disgust.

"No, Rory. You're _not_ you." Tristan retorted, advancing steadily on her, one finger thrust out in accusation, "The Rory Gilmore _I_ know would have never put up with Logan Huntzberger's shit. The Rory Gilmore I know would have never let a guy come between her and her mother." Tristan's face shone with an almost somber sheen.

"The Rory Gilmore I know would have never let another person, especially not a jackass like Mitchum Huntzberger, dictate the direction of her dreams." Tristan stepped closer to Rory, almost in a challenge.  
"The Rory Gilmore I know would have _never_ conceded so easily."

"How do you know all this?"

Tristan scoffed dryly, "Considering how communication has evolved over the ages, I have many resources in finding out information. Especially bearing in mind my best friend attends the same college as you do."

Rory stared up into his sincere eyes, gleaming only with disappointment. Shaking her head, she returned her attention back to the subject at hand, "You don't how everything happened, Tristan. How are sure you're faith isn't misplaced?"

Tristan held her stare, supremely confident in his next statement, "That's the point of faith, Rory. You either have it or you don't. I've never had anything less than faith in you."

"But why would you even have it after all we've been through this year?"

Tristan finally relieved Rory from the steady burning stare of his eyes, allowing a rough chuckle to rumble through his throat, "I have no idea, Gilmore. I really don't. Faith in our relationship is a lot different than the faith I have in your abilities. I have no qualms in saying I am sure you will go far. Qualms in our relationship…well, that's a whole different story. And the story has very much to do with your current beau."

Slowly, he eased himself down on their bench, their names still carved prominently in the worn wood of the seat. Tristan buried his face in his hands, rubbing anxiously as though his many problems would wash away. Tentatively, Rory slid beside him, her face conveying a confusion Tristan had yet to rectify.

"Tristan, please tell me."

Tristan scoffed, "What's the point, Rory? Either way, you might not believe me. It's my word over Logan's. Two years ago, you told me that you'd pick my friendship over a relationship any day. But something tells me you just might make an exception."

Rory stayed silent, looking at the boy – no, the man – who knew her best. And she felt the truth of her words weigh heavily in her heart. He just might be right.

- - -

As Tristan's back disappeared down the stairs, Riley ran a hand through his hair. Cautiously, he stepped into the room, approaching the distraught Alex as she brought her knees to her chest, curling up against the headboard of her bed. Riley sighed as he tossed his suit jacket on a chair, loosening the pewter tie around his neck and rolling his sleeves to his forearms. Plopping himself down beside Alex, Riley slid an arm around her slumped shoulders, his heart clenching as she leaned into his embrace, the salty tears of her pain soaking into the fabric of his shirt. Riley drew her even tighter into the circle of his arms, pressing a kiss to her golden hair. He allowed his eyes to drift shut, wishing he could whisk them away as her small voice, so different from before, cut through his thoughts.

"Was I not good enough, Riley? Why didn't he stay?"

Riley stiffened, his hand absently stroking her hair, his own bitter tears fighting against his will, "He's an idiot, Ali. He doesn't even deserve you."

Alex shook her head, "Those are just words, Riley. You can say them all you want, but it doesn't change anything. _He_ tossed me away like I mean nothing." Alex snorted, "You know, this is really rich coming from you."

Riley lowered his eyes, not denying her statement, "Ali…"

"What, Riley? God, do you have any idea what unrequited emotions does to people? Do you think I enjoy seeing guys I fall for in the arms of another girl?" Alex dipped her head low, shaking back and forth, "I am just so tired of this feeling of insignificance like I'm not worth falling for…"

Riley growled low in his throat, the frustration shining in his pale gray eyes, unable to take her self-infliction of insults.

"Dammit, Ali…" Cradling her cheek in his large palm, Riley raised her eyes to his. Wiping the tear-stained skin, he craned his head downward, crashing her lips to his.

A small gasp rippling from her lips, Alex stiffened as his warm mouth skimmed across her lips. Surprised at first, she relaxed, her hands slipping upward to grasp onto the lapels of his opened collar, the gray tie dangling loosely from his neck. Moment after moment drifted by as Alex allowed herself to sail away, her method of transportation the gentle caress of Riley's skillful lips. Her heart pounded incessantly against her chest, swelling with the raw emotion feeding her veins, completing the void cut deep from her past. Alex shuddered as his searching tongue slipped through her lips, tenderly gliding along hers, and his loving fingertips reverently grazed her cheeks. She felt safe in the arms clutching her tightly to the muscled body as if in those arms, nothing would ever harm her. Alex had never experienced that particular feeling before, and all she knew was whatever feeling that was, Riley was the only person who could possibly illicit such an emotion.

Riley deepened the kiss, his mind spinning with the intoxicating sensations as he felt the girl captive in his embrace melt into his arms, her troubles and tribulations forgotten as she clung to his shirt, desperately in search of purchase with each stroke of her lips against his. His mind screamed its protest, reminding him of the consequences of this impromptu lip lock, but Riley ignored the incessant pleadings, instead forgoing logic for the emotion currently surging its course through his body. All coherent thought had long escaped his conscious, and all Riley was aware of was, at that moment, this was right. And really, that was all that mattered.

Indolently, they parted, breaths coming in short and ragged gasps. Riley gazed down into the soft blue depths of Alex's eyes, searching hers hesitantly, trying to gauge her reaction. He visibly brightened as a slow, indulgent smile spread across her beautiful face as a giggle lit up her features. In that short moment, Riley caught a glimpse of the old Alexandra Dugrey, the Alex that had existed in his world before a certain Logan Huntzberger knocked his peaceful reality spinning away off its axis. He spotted the effervescent, audacious, vibrant, utterly fearless girl that had long parted this world, hidden beneath the broken chasm of light blue that were her somber eyes. For a split second, Riley saw the girl that believed love could conquer all and vanquish the most malicious of evils; this was the girl who had once told him that hope was the last thing to perish. He had long ago seen her hope die; the last thing within the old Alexandra Dugrey that had expired. But with that kiss, the spark of hope, the spark of life that had lain dormant had once again ignited, the flame beginning its slow and steady expansion to the roaring fire it had once been.

"Wh-what just happened?" Alex ventured, her eyes guarded as she looked up into Riley's eyes. If there was one thing she absolutely adored – physically – about her brother's best friend, it was his eyes. Pale, pale gray with a hint of jade green and a halo of yellow encircling the pupil, Riley's eyes expressed so much about the young man, able to twinkle with his unending impudence in one moment then blaze with a furious anger the next. At that instant, they had darkened to a pewter sheen, clouding over with intense emotion.

Riley quirked a grin, "Would you like a serious or sarcastic response? Either way, I've got both prepared."

Alex attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, an annoyed look gracing her countenance, "God, Riley, way to ruin the moment."

Riley only tightened his hold as she struggled against his arms. Cupping her chin in a tender hand, Riley turned her eyes to his, "Hey, Ali, you know I didn't mean it like that."

Alex responded with a toss of her head, "How utterly tactless of you, Riley Beaumont. Here we are after sharing a kiss, might I add my first one since…" Alex trailed off before gathering her composure, "and you choose to make a joke. What was that, huh? Was that just some kind of pity kiss?"

Mentally, Riley kicked himself, sighing in frustration, "Look, I'm sorry…and no. It wasn't a pity kiss."

Alex locked eyes with him, still defensive, "So what exactly does this mean, Riley?"

"Well, besides the obvious, it means, Ali, that I'm tired of hiding my feelings for you. I'm tired of pushing away my heart in lieu of logic and the fact that your brother will probably dismember me." Riley shifted to face Alex directly.

"You have no idea how hard I tried to disregard what I was feeling for you. I didn't want to ruin my friendship with TJ, and to be honest, I didn't know how to handle myself around you. But after all that's happened, Ali, all I did was run myself over with a Mac truck. If I hadn't been so stubborn, none of this would have…"

Alex cut him off, engulfing his lips in a kiss, effectively silencing the young man's ranting. Drawing away, her forehead touching his, Alex ran her hands through the thick hair that curled over his ears, giggling as his facial hair tickled her chin.

"It's not your fault, Riley." Her eyes glinting with hope, Alex allowed her eyes to drift shut as he gently ghosted kisses over her cheeks, nose, and forehead, "So I'm assuming correctly in this will happen again. You know, 'this' being the kissing part?"

Riley's chest rumbled as a chuckle worked its way through his body, "Damn straight, Dugrey. After experiencing a kiss as amazing as that, you really think I'd only allow a one-time occurrence?" Raking his fingers through Alex's luxurious blonde locks, Riley drew her close, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"When I said you and I will never be more than friends," Riley grinned, nudging her nose with his, "I so lied…"

- - -

Rory stared at Tristan's hunched form, his hands sifting through his hair. Absently, he played with the silver cuff poking through the fabric of his sleeves. She was about to stand up to depart when his sonorous voice called her back.

"You shouldn't be hearing this from me, you know. He should be the one telling you."

Rory shrugged, "I guess it really doesn't matter who I hear it from. I'm gonna need both stories either way."

Tristan quirked a small, somber smile, "How journalistic of you." Bracing himself for the assault of emotion he was sure to experience while dredging up the memories, Tristan's face adopted a distant look as his recollections brought him back to a past time.

"It was about…I guess a bit over a year ago when it all started."

Rory shifted to face him directly, her brow furrowing at the haunted aspect to his features, shimmering in the moonlight, "When what started?"

Tristan snorted, irony heavy in the gesture, "Everything." Glancing down at his hands twisting between spread knees, he relaxed his grip, clenching his fingers.

"Did-did you know that Alex has wanted to go to Yale since she was eight? It caused a mini-scandal in the Dugrey house. Normally, Dugrey men and women are Harvard bound. You have no idea how long I labored to persuade my parents to allow me to attend Stanford. Alex was just as stubborn. The moment she saw Yale – or rather a brochure of it – she's wanted to attend. You could call Yale her Harvard to you…" Tristan expelled a deep, suffering breath.

"Imagine her glee when Riley gets accepted to her dream school, and the time has come to start college visits. Of course, Alex jumps at the chance to follow Riley around for a few days." Tristan sighed, "That's when it all began…"

**_Alex swiveled her head from side to side, taking in the ambiance of the world around her. This was better than the pictures, even better than the stories Riley had told her. Nothing could ever defer her from this dream._**

_**Riley shook his head at the girl beside him who was currently in a state of absolute awe, "Pick your jaw off the floor, Ali. Someone might slip on your trail of drool…"**_

**_Alex shot a dirty look at the man beside her, his handsome features twisted into an amused expression, "Oh shove it, Beaumont. You're just jealous that the attention isn't fixated on you anymore, but rather my lovely countenance."_**

**_Riley chuckled, acknowledging a chorus of breathy salutations from a group of girls passing by with a nod of his head and a wave, "Oh I seriously beg to differ, my dear."_**

_**Alex rolled her eyes, cuffing the taller man on the arm, "So, where are we going today? I wanna see the football field, the library, any classroom you want…Oh! I'm sorry."**_

**_Alex whirled to steady the boy she had bumped. As he brushed off his designer shirt and raised his face to meet hers, Alex drew in a sharp intake of breath, gazing into the deep brown eyes of the attractive student she had collided with. Adjusting the backpack weighing down his shoulders, he flashed a pleasant smile._**

**_"Ah, no worries. A gorgeous girl like yourself, you can bump me anytime." Sending her a grin, he stuck out his hand, "Logan Huntzberger."_**

_**Alex uncharacteristically blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she grasped the offering, "Alex Dugrey."**_

_**Logan cocked an eyebrow, "Dugrey? Like Dugrey Enterprises?"**_

_**Alex nodded, "That's the one. I can only assume Huntzberger as in Huntzberger Media Corporation?"**_

_**Logan grinned, "Well, you wouldn't assume anything else. It's not like Huntzberger is a common name."**_

**_Riley shifted uncomfortably as he witnessed the interaction between the two. He had always been wary of the many guys Alex dated. Her choice in men was habitually not the wisest of her decisions, and Riley had heard some stories about Logan Huntzberger, none of which seemed to put him in a very pleasant light. It was well known around Yale that Logan Huntzberger was exceedingly promiscuous, and Alex never seemed to make the best judgments when it came to relationships._**

**_Logan tore his eyes from the beautiful girl in front of him to the tall, handsome man beside her, his sinewy and strapping frame very intimidating from a lofty six-three height. Meeting the intensely penetrating eyes, currently appraising him closely, Logan forced an affable smile up to the face, given the notion this was a guy he had to make a good impression on._**

_**"So I haven't seen you around. Are you visiting your boyfriend?"**_

**_Alex flicked her eyes up to Riley, shaking her head, "Oh, Riley? He's not my boyfriend. He's my brother's best friend and I'm just taking a tour."_**

**_Logan peered closer at the man beside Alex, "Hey, Riley Beaumont, right? Great game on Thursday. Four goals and a pair of assists, right?"_**

**_Riley gave a short nod of his head, immediately feeling very protective over Alex as he unconsciously stepped closer to the younger girl, "Yeah, that's right. You saw that game? I wouldn't have pegged you for a soccer guy."_**

**_Logan shrugged, "I'm not. I was covering the game for the Daily Yale." Logan sighed dramatically, "I was hoping to catch an interview with the team's breakout star, but you seemed to elude my attentions and left too early for me to grab the chance."_**

**_Riley shot the shorter boy a tight smile, "I don't respond too well to flattery. I'm not really a spotlight kinda guy. I suggest you save that for someone who does. I play a team sport, and it was a team win."_**

_**Logan quirked a small smile, "Modest. I like that. Can I use that as a quote?"**_

**_Riley shrugged. "If you thrive on clichés, sure. As long as it's paired with a nice inspirational spiel about the chemistry exuded on the field." _**

**_Logan nodded, shooting the soccer player a charming smile, "I'll be sure to do that." He turned back to Alex, "So how are you liking Yale so far?"_**

**_Alex shifted, a contented smile gracing her features, "It's more than I could have ever imagined."_**

**_Logan smirked, "Well, I can definitely argue it just got better for me." Logan dug into the pocket of his backpack, producing a hot pink flyer, "If you want to see the real Yale – not the stuff they put in the brochure – come to this address." Handing the flyer to her, Logan shot out a dashing wink. Riley's eyes narrowed as Logan's fingers lingered on Alex's. This was not jealousy…really it wasn't._**

_**Logan slowly backed away from the pair, "I hope to see you there, Alex. It would make my night if you were."**_

**_Alex blushed again, watching as he departed, glancing back over his shoulder to send her a flirty wave. Riley relaxed his fingers that had unconsciously clenched itself into a fist, rotating as Alex caught his attention._**

**_"So, what do you think, Beaumont?"_**

**_Riley frowned slightly, his voice gruff behind a clenched jaw, "About what?"_**

**_Alex waved the flyer under his nose, "What do you say you and I crash this shindig? See the nightlife at Yale?"_**

**_"Because the day evokes that kind of curiosity in the bumping after-hours, right?" Riley fidgeted nervously for a moment, hesitant to answer. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing sideways at the younger Dugrey._**

"**_I don't know, Lex, I've heard some pretty bad things both about Logan Huntzberger, and I've been to the parties he throws. I have to admit, Ali, they're pretty wild. I don't want you to get into something you're not ready for."_**

"**_C'mon, Riley. These can't be worse than Chilton parties," Alex pleaded._**

**_Riley snorted, "Well, I've never been to a Chilton party, so I can't relate." He sighed, scratching idly at the stubble on his chin, playing with the cuff on his left hand, "Look, Lex, these parties can get really rowdy, and I promised your brother I'd bring you back in one piece…"_**

**_Alex's eyes widened as her bottom lip started to poke out. Riley squinched his eyes shut, groaning at the expression beginning to adorn her face. Shaking his head resolutely, he backed away from her, waving his arms._**

**_"No, no, no. Nuh-uh. I'm not falling for that, Ali. You can forget about it."_**

**_Alex only smirked, inching closer to Riley, tugging at his crossed arms, "Please, Riley…"_**

_**At that moment, Riley made the mistake of peeking open one eye, giving him an eyeful of the expression she knew he had no immunity to. His resolve rapidly beginning to crumble, Riley unleashed a deep, guttural groan.**_

_**"Fine."**_

**_Alex's face lit up, ecstatic as she squealed, pumping a fist in triumph before throwing her arms around his neck. Hugging him tightly, Alex smacked a big kiss to his cheek, "Thanks, Beau. I owe you one."_**

_**Riley quirked a smile, hiding the anxiety behind the charming façade, "You're lucky we're not keeping track, Ali. Otherwise you'd be owing me well into next lifetime."**_

_**Alex playfully shoved his arm, sticking her tongue out at the taller man, "Fret not, Riley. I'll pay you back eventually."**_

_**Riley grumbled, waving a dismissive hand, "Yeah, yeah. You say that every time."**_

Rory sat back, distancing herself from Tristan as she peered at his distraught figure, "So what happened?"  
Tristan hefted a heavy sigh, "What else? Despite his better judgment, Riley let Alex go to the party. She met Logan again, and fell head over heels for him. Of course, a few drinks probably went into that decision, but I don't doubt the outcome would be different regardless."

Rory frowned, "So you're mad at Logan because he started dating your sister?"

Tristan cocked a sardonic eyebrow at his companion, "My how your opinion of me has rapidly deteriorated since we've been apart, Mary." Tristan snorted.

"Do you honestly think I'd be that paltry?" Tristan ran his hands through his hair, the shorter spikes even more unkempt than usual, "I wish that's all that happened…"

"So, Alex and Logan met about the beginning of soccer season, about November and began dating soon after that. You should have seen her, Rory. She was so happy. She was so ecstatic whenever I called her on the phone. When I came back for winter break, she was glowing." Tristan's indulgent smile wavered as he remembered the subsequent events.

"But come January, things were different. I guess with a new year, new feelings arise, too." Tristan bowed his head, angry tears of hate and revulsion worming their way up his throat.

"In February, Alex came by the campus on a random Chilton holiday to surprise her boyfriend. She had called beforehand, and he said he was studying in his room. So Alex snuck in, and he was in fact studying…" Tristan snorted.

"He was studying Human Anatomy with a busty blonde."

**_Riley was jerked alert by an incessant pounding on his apartment door, yanking his thoughts away from the tribulations of Tom Joad and migrant farm workers. Striding over to his stereo, Riley twisted the knob, lowering the pulsing volume of the music.Glancing sideways at the clock perched on his beside table, Riley groaned as the illuminated numbers denoted a time of five after eleven. Thanking the higher powers that his roommate was taking an extended visit with his girlfriend, Riley tottered to the door, idly scratching his chest encased by a wife beater. Flinging open the door, ready to chastise whoever had interrupted him from his current state of trying to shove as much information about _The Grapes of Wrath_ into his head, Riley glowered down at the figure shadowed in the hallway. Immediately, his anger withered as he glanced down at the distraught face of Alexandra Dugrey. The tears coursing down her cheeks signalled something huge, and ushering her inside, he removed the square glasses perched on his nose._**

_**"Ali? What are you doing here?"**_

**_His response was a strangled sob as she threw her arms around his neck. Riley automatically drew her closer, rocking her soothingly. Gently leading her to the living room couch, he cupped her face between his palms. Riley searched her eyes as the pads of his thumbs wiped away the trails of wetness that had dampened her cheeks. She shook her head, distress shining prominently through her beautiful eyes. After a lengthy pause, the words tumbled forward, her voice small and timid._**

**_"I came to visit Logan, and when I got there, he…" Alex trailed off, another bout of tears rolling down her cheeks, "You were right about him, Riley. He was everything you warned me about. God, I'm so stupid…"_**

**_Riley's gray eyes hardened as his arms tightened around her shaking frame. His jaw clenched as he thought of what Logan Huntzberger had done to her. Riley pushed away all murderous thoughts for the moment, focusing his attention on comforting the girl in his arms._**

Tristan shook his head, his eyes drifting shut as he felt his sister's pain, "She loved him, Rory. Truly and deeply loved him. I know my sister, and she doesn't give herself to others all that willingly." Tristan's breaths came in rapid succession, shallow and choppy.

"He broke her heart."

"So that's why you hate him?" Rory ventured. As her eyes skimmed downwards, she absorbed the figure of the man she had come to call her best friend. Tristan hunched over on the small bench, supporting his elbows on spread knees. Idly, he rocked on the seat, his chiseled, handsome features drawn with tension, remorse, and unbridled rage. She felt torn inside, his story sparking a furious battle within as both sides tugged her in opposite directions. She desperately wanted to dispel this tale he was telling her, believing that Logan would have never done such a thing, but Tristan never lied to her. He had always told her the utmost truth. Her past words had come to haunt her. She was faced with a decision between her best friend and her boyfriend.

At her last inquiry, Tristan snorted with disdain, shaking his head in condescension, "That was the basis of it, but if that was _all_ of it, I wouldn't have punched him more than once…The real problems started two weeks after that."

**_Riley wrenched the steering wheel to the right, turning sharply into the driveway of the Dugrey home, sending pieces of gravel flying along the pathway. An hour ago, he had been hauled from a peaceful dream by the ungainly cacophony of his cell phone. As he pressed the device to his ear, Alex's distressed voice spluttered out a sentence, barely intelligible through her halting sobs. Simultaneously soothing the girl on the other end while yanking on jeans and a t-shirt, Riley hurriedly grabbed his keys, sprinting out the door to his car, driving in the direction of Hartford._**

**_Slamming the car door shut, Riley tugged open the unlocked front door, entering the Dugrey home. Bounding up the stairs, he dashed through the roomy hallways and corridors in a frantic search for the elusive blonde. Riley skidded to a stop outside of Alex's private bathroom, and instantly, his brow furrowed._**

"_**Ali? What's wrong?" **_

**_He received no reply as Alex refused to meet his eyes, instead rocking on the toliet seat. The silence hung heavy in the air as he noticed the tears beginning to trickle down her smooth skin. Immediately, Riley knelt before the mute girl. Concern flickering in both the pale gray spheres of his eyes and the creasing of his brow, Riley ran his hands up and down her arms, attempting to coax out a response._**

"**_Hey, c'mon, kid. You can tell me what's up." Alex opened her mouth, hesitating as though the simple movement was difficult to perform. A small whimper expelled from her mouth, even the thought of the words she had yet to say proved to be painful as they resonated in her mind. Riley gently ran his knuckles against the clammy skin of her face, smoothing the wayward curls from her vision._**

**_"Hey, Ali. C'mon, you can talk to me. Just let it out. I'm here for you."_**

**_Until that moment, her eyes had stayed fixated on the carpet of his room, refusing to meet his alarmed gaze. Taking a shallow, shuddering breath through the sobs wracking her body, Alex finally hoisted her eyes to meet his, and Riley's brow creased even more deeply in concern. Wordlessly, she extended her arm, a tiny object grasped in her palm. Froming heavily, Riley extracted the object from her grip. His mouth fell open as the pale pink stip winked innocently from its position on the white stick. His eyes snapped to Alex, the tears streaming down her face, and he dropped the test, drawing her to his chest as the sobs began a fresh bout. Dazed by the revelation, Riley rocked them back and forth, pressing kisses to her hair as he whispered words of comfort into her ear._**

_**"It's gonna be okay, Ali. I promise it's gonna be okay."**_

**_As Alex's soft whimpers calmed to occasional gasps, Riley allowed the frown to spread across his lips. This was not good…_**

Rory stiffened, tearing her eyes away from Tristan's steady gaze. The thought of Logan having a child with another person was unbearable. She didn't want to believe what he was telling her. Closing her eyes, Rory asked the fateful question.

"How did she…?" Rory couldn't even bring herself to finish the query.

Tristan quirked an ironic smile, shaking his head, "Because Alexandra isn't like me. She is far from promiscuous." Tristan caught her glance, the expression on his face only described as utterly poignant.

"Logan was the only guy she's ever slept with. He was her first, and she hasn't slept with anyone ever since."

Rory tore her gaze away, unable to meet Tristan's steady blue eyes that seemed to challenge her with their intense cobalt sheen, "So did she have the baby?"

Tristan snorted, "No. Even that happy fate was beyond my baby sister's reach."

**_Riley's gray eyes flashed with a fury almost barbaric in its rage as he stalked down the crowded Yale hallway. As his intended target slid into his line of vision, Riley roared out over the din of chatter._**

_**"HUNTZBERGER!"**_

_**At the summons, Logan turned, his brown eyes widening with fear at the looming figure storming in his direction. Before he could turn tail and bolt, Riley grabbed him by the jacket collar, hauling him by the lapels. Whirling, the tall brunette dragged Logan to the nearest wall, slamming him against the fortification. His back coming into contact with the solid structure, the shorter blonde's breath left his lungs in a rush, leaving him wheezing. Gasping against the firm grip, Logan struggled fruitlessly.**_

_**"What do you want, Beaumont?"**_

**_Riley's eyes narrowed to pale gray slits, the ire radiating from his stance, barely contained beneath his visage, "You pitiful, worthless, sack of _shit_."_**

_**Logan swallowed hard at the whispered words, the incensed tone sparking a profound fear within his core, "Wh-what are you talking about…?"**_

**_Riley silenced him with a look, "Don't play dumb, Huntzberger…you play dumb, that makes _me_ mad, and me mad is gonna be very detrimental to your health. Now, why did you do it?"_**

**_"I-I don't understand…" Logan managed to splutter out, his brown eyes attempting in vain to cover his terror._**

**_"Bullshit," Riley spat, shoving him even harder against the wall, "She came to me crying her eyes out. Now considering the source of all her problems is _you_, that's telling me something. More specifically, the source of her tears is _you_. Now you've got two options right now. Option A: you admit to me what happened, and I spare you from castration, or option B: I permanently hinder a certain activity you seem to have a problem limiting to one partner at a time." Riley leaned in closer to Logan, his face not bothering to conceal his hatred._**

_**"Choose wisely, Huntzberger."**_

_**Logan's eyes flicked over to the crowd rapidly beginning to gather around the two men, "Do you mind if we continue this confrontation elsewhere? People are starting to stare."**_

**_Riley snorted, "Of course. We wouldn't want to encumber the famous Logan Huntzberger's reputation in any way shape or form with such a scandal like an illegitimate child. Excuse me for being so inconsiderate." Riley glowered at the blonde._**

_**"Courtyard, seven. Be there." With one final shove against the wall, Riley released Logan, whirling to continue down the hall when a shout caught his attention.**_

_**"I don't plan on coming alone."**_

_**Riley halted, cocking an eyebrow over his shoulder, "I'm counting on it."**_

Rory sat still, enraptured with the story as Tristan unbuttoned his suit jacket, scratching at the stubble adorning his strong chin, the fatigue and exhaustion shadowing his generally animated features. Tentatively, she shifted on the bench, reaching out to graze his hand. Tristan tensed at the contact, his eyes flicking down to her hand resting on his before he turned away.

"So what happened after? Why was Riley so mad?"

Tristan scoffed, responding with a toss of his head, "Apparently, the saying goes, money can't buy everything." Tristan swiveled his head so that his eyes met Rory's directly.

"Even an abortion and the promise of disappearing."

**_Riley glanced at the watch offered out to him. Huntzberger was late. Pacing anxiously to relieve himself of the rage pent up towards the rich society pawn, Riley growled to himself. Moments later, Logan appeared, leading a posse of about twenty guys. Halting before Riley, he surveyed the group behind his opponent, consisting of the entire Yale soccer team._**

**_Riley approached the shorter blonde, "Okay, Huntzberger. You wanted to talk? So talk."_**

_**Logan glared heatedly into the eyes of his adversary, "Look, I don't know what she told you, but I had nothing to do with it. It's obvious she's just vying for a piece of the Huntzberger fortune."**_

**_"Right, of course. What was I thinking?" Riley mocked, throwing up his hands in a ersatz gesture of realization, "Of course Alex is just out for your money." Dropping the façade, Riley loomed over Logan._**

**_"Because the Dugrey Empire amounts to five times more than the Huntzberger wealth does, right? I must be delusional in thinking Alex would want even more money." Riley tossed his head in annoyance._**

**_"Oh come off it, Huntzberger. Own up. You made a mistake, and now you're trying to make it disappear. News flash: it's not gonna."_**

_**Logan smirked, squaring up to the taller man, "I hate to disrupt your tale, Beaumont, but Alex came to me demanding that I give her money for this child. I simply obliged with her wishes."**_

"**_You lying bastard. You tried to pay her off you sick asshole. You and your father can't bear to have the Huntzberger reputation tarnished by such a scandal." Riley advanced on Logan, his timbre deepened to a menacing growl, "You threw a check at her to 'take care of it' and disappear from Hartford. Don't bother denying it. I had an interesting conversation with your father concerning that little detail. It didn't end too well…"_**

**_Logan glared defiantly up at the man standing six inches taller than him, "How do I even know the kid's mine, anyway? She's a slut just like her brother is."_**

_**At the comment, the fine string holding Riley to his composure abruptly snapped, and he lashed out catching Logan square across the face. Yanking him back up, Riley raised his knee, ramming the joint into Logan's pelvis area. As the blonde doubled over, gasping in pain, Riley reared back, his fist connecting with a vicious uppercut. As Logan crumpled to the ground, Riley hovered over the fallen boy, his finger thrust forward in anger.**_

**_"If you ever come near her again, I will repeat this performance over ten-fold. I will make sure no female will ever glance in your direction again. I will destroy your reputation to such a status of chaos that you will never be able to show your face with a five state radius from here." Riley's eyes glittered with uninhibited malice._**

**_"When I'm done with you, you will wish you had the child."_**

_**Riley backed away, issuing one final warning, "One of these days, Hamburger, you are gonna find a girl worth keeping, and this right here will come back to haunt you. Mark my words, Huntzberger. Karma's a bitch."**_

Tristan glared down at his shoes, biting his next sentence from a clenched jaw, "Logan may have broken Lex's heart when he cheated on her." Lifting his head, he met Rory's pained eyes, his own sapphire spheres glazed over with the agony of the memory. All he could see was his sister's face, vulnerable without a trace of the vitality that had once graced her countenance.

"But he broke whatever was left of her the moment he tried to pay her off."

Tristan dropped his head, helpless tears wracking through his body. Unabashedly, he sobbed, burying his head in his hands. His torso shook violently, months of pain and anguish surging to the surface. Rory stared helplessly as he continued to shed thick tears, indifferent to whoever saw him in such a position. Her conscience battled furiously, waging war with turmoiled, conflicted emotions. She so desperately wished to hold onto the hope that Logan wouldn't do such a horrible thing, but with each quaking sob that rolled through Tristan's body, the doubt embedded itself further in her mind.

"What happened to the baby?" Rory braced herself, fearing the worst.

"Well, there's no desired conclusion for this story, that's for sure." Tristan sneered cynically, his breath coming in rough puffs, "I would love to tell you she gave birth to a bouncing baby that instantly charmed the world and will end up to be like you, but even that outcome eludes my sister."

Tristan shook his head, "Riley was there for her every step of the way. He helped her in so many ways, and I…I can't forgive myself for not being there. But I can take slight comfort in knowing he was." Tristan raked his hands through his hair, expelling a deep breath.

"Alex…lost the baby three months into the pregnancy." Another wave of tears gushed forth, "All she had were Riley and Granddad. My parents didn't know. They would have kicked her out. She would've been alone if it wasn't for Granddad and Riley."

Taking in a ragged breath, Tristan's eyes stayed on the ground between his feet, "Every time I look at Alex, I can hardly believe that's my little sister. There was a light in her eyes that just…that just seemed to spark with vitality, a zeal for life and for living." Tristan swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

"That spark no longer exists." Tristan's eyes blazed furiously, "He killed that spark." Tristan clenched his jaw, the tension radiating from his posture, "And I'll never forgive him for it."

- - -

Alex giggled as Riley's wandering teeth nipped against her collarbone. Skimming up towards her mouth, Riley engulfed her lips in a torrid kiss, her bout of mirth. Alex pulled away for the moment, holding him back at arm's length.

"We…" Riley darted in again, stealing away with her coherent thought. Drawing back, Alex sent a reproving look in his direction.

"We should…" An impish grin lighting up his face, Riley broke through her hold attempting to ward him off, attacking her with another kiss. Determined to finish her sentence, Alex shoved him back, her hands braced on his solid chest. Catching her breath, Alex gazed directly into his gray eyes.

"We should stop." A satisfied expression on her face that she had managed to say those three words, Alex relaxed her grasp on Riley's shirt. Taking advantage of her unguarded state, he swooped in again, drawing her against his torso, peppering kisses along her face.

"So stop."

Alex ran her hands through his silky hair as he grazed his lips against her skin. Allowing her eyes to drift shut as his nomadic mouth latched onto her pulse point, gently sucking, Alex sighed, bringing his face back up to hers.

"You're making it really hard to…"

Riley smirked against her lips, tilting his head to receive her kiss, "So isn't that telling you something?"

Alex laughed, her hands drifting down to play with the tie dangling from his neck, "Only that you and me in close quarters is a very dangerous thing."

"Uh-huh," Riley agreed, his fingers tracing the contours of her face, "Can't argue there. You, my dear, are very addicting." Alex stiffened slightly in his hold, and Riley pulled away, searching her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Alex shrugged, "I denno, call me insecure, but what are we?"

Riley dipped his head, brushing a reassuring kiss to her lips, "Don't be sorry, Ali. I know this is hard for you, and I get it. We can take this slow, if that's what you want." Riley scooted closer, bringing her even more tightly against his chest.

"But if anyone asks me, I'm staking my claim that you're my girlfriend." Riley stroked the soft skin beneath his fingertips, "Is that what you want?"

Alex allowed a smile to bloom across her face, "Yeah. I'd like that."

Riley grinned, brushing a tender kiss across her forehead, "Good." His grinned widened, "Because I'd have probably gone insane if you said no." The pad of his thumb grazing her upturned lips, Riley's eyes softened, "I like seeing you smile again."

Alex blushed, glancing away, "Yeah, well, it's easy to smile around you."

Riley chuckled, drawing her into a tight embrace, "Whenever you're around me, Ali, I'll never make you do anything but smile."

Alex's face sobered instantly, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Riley…"

Riley stared deep into the solemn spheres of the girl across from him. She had gone through so much, and Riley wished he could just erase the last two years from her life.

"That's not a promise, Alex. That's a guarantee." Riley glanced down, "I can't change the past. And I desperately wish I could and stop all of this from happening, but I can't. But that was then, Alex. Are you ready to face now?"

Alex stared up into the comforting depths of Riley's gray eyes, "Yeah. I think I am."

Riley grinned, "Good. Now, where were we?"

Alex giggled, wriggling out of his grasp as he leaned in to resume their prior activities, "Behave, Mr. Beaumont. We really should be getting down there."

Riley waved a dismissive hand, "Please, everyone down there is too wasted to discern a book from a bagpipe at this point."

Alex heaved a mock sigh, twining her arms around his neck, "Gosh, you can be so persuasive, Beaumont…"

- - -

Tristan huffed an ironic chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief, his tone still heavy with a sullen resentment, "You know, I was really trying to work towards forgetting this whole thing between us and starting talking and all that…" Tristan propped his chin on his fist, glancing sideways at Rory.

"Funny what gets us to start talking again."

Rory scooted closer to him, placing a hand on his, delighted that he didn't pull away, "I know what you mean, Tristan. I really missed you this past year."

Tristan nodded, his lips drawing tight in a forced smile, "Yeah. I missed you too." He sighed dejectedly.

"Look, Rory. This…whatever… you have with Huntzberger…" Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to release the utter frustration within his body.

"I don't like it…but…there's really nothing I can do about it. I don't wanna make you choose. I just might lose that battle." Tristan chuckled wryly, his breath expelled in a long, misty cloud, "Man…of all the gin joints in the world…" Tristan hesitated before proceeding with his next question.

"Rory, will you do me a favor?"

Rory nodded, her brow furrowing at the solemn glint to his eyes, "Yeah, of course I will."

Tristan paused, idly scratching the stubble whiskering his chin, "Ask Logan about…this thing. It's not fair that you just get my side." Tristan snorted softly.

"Of course, there is the risk you don't get another side to begin with...he might just deny the whole thing happened." Tristan returned his gaze to Rory's, shrugging as he conceded to the potential scenario.

"But just ask him…please?"

Rory nodded, her face illustrating a slight uncertainty, "I will."

Tristan quirked a small smile, "I'm holding you to it."

Rory lay a hand on his shoulder, gazing into his deep ocean eyes, "Are we okay?"

Tristan shook his head, "Maybe not just yet, Rory. We will be again, but I'm just trying to appease myself to the current situations. I guess I'm still kinda stuck in the past. But, I think we're getting there."

He tilted his head, gazing into the blue eyes that had haunted his dreams and existed in his nightmares,"Just know that…although I've been pissed at you for the last year. Nothing's changed, Rory. You know, I tried so desperately to stay mad at you, to almost hate you, but I couldn't. I couldn't hold onto that anger because I still felt something. You hurt me so bad that day, but it still didn't change my feelings, and they still haven't changed. That may freak you out, but I'm not gonna deny it. I stopped denying it that night, and I can't deny it anymore…"

Tristan sighed, "It's just that…that year, so much shit just kept piling up. That thing with Alex, Riley and Paris, and…Brandon Knox."

Rory frowned, unfamiliar with the name, "Who's Brandon Knox?"

"One of Riley and mine's closest friends from the academy." Tristan smiled with nostalgia, "He was the most passionate about the military aspect of Amherst. There was no doubt that the military training wouldn't stop once we graduated for him. He was drafted to the Marines right out of high school." Tristan tensed.

"He was shipped off to Iraq about halfway into freshman year, and he's been

there ever since." Tristan showed Rory the cuff encircling his left wrist. Rory

gazed down at the bracelet. Engraved in the center was Brandon's name between two crosses.

"We vowed to wear these cuffs until he came back safe."

Tristan glanced up at Rory, a contemplative look shadowing his face, "You know, Beau adopted a motto a long time ago, and he passed it on to our graduating class. Everyone lives by it."

Rory met his eyes, unsure of where he was heading with their conversation, "What is it?"

"_Carpe diem_. Seize the day." Tristan gazed down at the cuff encircling his left

wrist.

"Because you don't know when it's all gonna end." Tristan shook his head with disbelief, "Sometimes, I think Brandon's an idiot. You know, he's risking everything for this country. I don't think I'd have the guts. He doesn't know when his life will end, and he just upped those chances by joining the war. But that's what he wanted to do, and he didn't run away from the risks. Even though he didn't what the next day held for him, whether he was gonna be shot or injured or even killed, Brandon still did it. He refused to take the safe route." Tristan met Rory's eyes directly, his steady gaze holding a deeper meaning than what the conversation's initial topic depicted.

"Sometimes the safe route isn't necessarily the best one." Tristan stood, fixing his suit jacket and smoothing his hair down a bit.

"I should get going. My mom's probably upending furniture trying to figure out where I am. And she's probably gonna chew my ear off for kicking Logan's ass…"

Tristan touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute, "I'll catch you later, Rory."

Rory stood with him, calling out to his departing back, "Tristan."

As he turned back, he caught the hopeful glint shrouded in her brilliant eyes, "We're gonna be okay, aren't we?"

Tristan quirked a small smile, "You know, I really wanna say no and leave you hanging, but I'm not a jackass anymore." He shrugged, "We will be. I can promise you that."

Rory smiled, "It's good to have you back, Tris."

Tristan nodded, his hands dug deep in his pockets, "Talk to him."

Rory nodded as he disappeared up the path back to the house. A deep sigh wracking her body, she sank back down onto the bench, her fingers gently tracing over the name engraved a long time ago. As she sat in her isolation, Rory's mind ran rampant with the story Tristan had just told her, and she could feel her heart yanked back and forth between two conflicting emotions. Logan couldn't have done something so heinous, so _heartless_…could he?

_Dun, dun, dun! Not as long as previous chapters, but, I hope that was worth the wait nonetheless. You didn't think I'd get them back together that easily did you? Now that wouldn't be very interesting, would it? However, don't worry; they won't be mad at each other for long. Next, we will get Logan's end – or lack thereof? – of this story. I am trying my hardest to incorporate the rest of the stooges since this wouldn't be a season 6-ish story without them. Plus, fare not Riley/Paris lovers, there might be some interesting interactions between them later in the story. Plus, those who are wondering where are the rest of the Stars Hollow crowd like Lorelai, Luke, and Lane (ha…Love those Ls…) worry not; they will make their appearances soon. As with the Lorelai/Rory reunion, let's just say Tristan and Riley play a good part in that. Stay tuned…_

_Roxy_


	10. Oh God, Don’t Make Me Face Up to This

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything._

_First of all, let me apologize for the lack of updates. I'd take this moment to provide you with an explanation, but it's a bunch of personal stuff, and I sense you would all like to go with the story. In that case, I will refrain from boring you. This chapter isn't as action-packed as previous ones, serving as more of a filler than anything._

_So, onward!_

**Chapter 10**

_Oh God, Don't Make Me Face Up to This_

Tristan sighed deeply as his long strides carried him away from Rory Gilmore, each step feeling like an inch in an endless abyss he was yet to travel, his footsteps echoing with the name of Rory's boyfriend, the guy who had dashed his baby sister's confidence with a few choice words and one simple flick of the wrist. Inside, his head was spinning with their last encounter. _Logan Huntzberger_. Rory was dating _Logan Huntzberger_. Of all people in the world, the one that would attract her fancy was the one he detested with every fiber of his reformed being. That idea caused an ample amount of confusion for Tristan, and the disappointment sparking within his body was not effortless to ignore as well…

Trudging up the stairwell in search of his best friend and his baby sister, Tristan contemplated heavily on the situation at hand. Patching up his friendship with Rory no doubt meant that he would be seeing Logan Huntzberger on a regular basis, a fact that didn't sit too well with his nerves. There was too much history between the two of them, nothing that could be easily disregarded, nor was Tristan willing to try. He paused for a moment, unbuttoning his shirt even further down his chest, dispelling the tie. Rory Gilmore had chosen his friendship over a relationship many times before, but this time, knowing Logan Huntzberger and the fact that the other blonde, rich boy was very similar to the Tristan Dugrey of the past and possessing the knowledge of Logan's outer façade of charm and allure, Tristan's confidence wavered more than slightly. This time, Rory just might not choose him. That was the kicker: – pardon the cliché – but this was a battle, he just might lose.

As he inched closer to Alex's bedroom, a thought materialized in his mind. Alex had been spending an extensive amount of time with Beau. Normally, Tristan wouldn't think anything of it, but the circumstances were hardly normal, and Alex always seemed to harbor a slight crush of attraction towards his best friend. Tristan contemplated the situation. If his baby sister ever dated his best friend…Tristan had no idea what he would do; that was a doozy to his comprehension. Sure, he agreed that no one would treat Alex better than Riley did, but he just wasn't certain he would approve them dating. His mind wandered back to the age-old saying: "bros before hoes." But what if the aforementioned "hoe" was your sister?

Approaching Alex's door, Tristan's brow furrowed as he heard the squeaking of the bed, and Alex's giggle permeated his hearing followed by a guttural grunt from Riley. Tristan frowned even further as a noticeable squeal cut through the atmosphere, and Alex's breathy voice.

"Riley! Not so hard!"

The situation played out in Tristan's fragile mind, and enraged, he barged through the door, his face twisted in ire, his hands clenched at his sides, ready to clock his best friend. As the entryway flew open, ricocheting off of the frame with a resounding bang, two sets of eyes flew to the opening. Alex regarded her older brother with an amused expression on her beautiful face, one eyebrow cocked in appraisal.

"You break my door, Tris, and you're the one fixing it…"

Tristan stood dumbly at the entrance, his gaze fixated on the scene – or rather, lack of it – before his eyes. Riley and Alex sat cross-legged on her bed, hands outstretched with Alex's palms atop of Riley's. As the younger Dugrey's attention diverted to her brother, Riley snuck his hand from under Alex's, quickly slapping the top of her hovering palm.

At the contact, Alex yelped, her head whipping to glower at Riley as she lashed out, cuffing him on the shoulder, "You cheater! You're supposed wait until I'm paying attention!"

Riley leaned back, raising his arms to ward off the sock to his arm, grinning teasingly, "Ow! And _you're_ supposed to be hitting my hand! Rules never said I had to wait!"

"So we had rules?" Alex challenged, a smirk working its way onto her face.

Riley grinned cheekily, "Universal rules that are collective in comprehension."

Alex rolled her eyes, "But are subject to interpretation, right?"

Tristan interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Guys!" As the attention shifted to him, Tristan glared, "_This_ is what you've been doing this whole time?"

Riley cocked an eyebrow, shooting his best friend a dumbfounded look, "Uh…_yes_? Surprisingly, TJ, hobnobbing with a hoard of half-drunk dimwits you call the elite of Hartford fails to send my Fun-O-Meter crashing off its axis…"

Tristan sighed at the characteristic response flowing from Riley's mouth, "Yeah, but I just passed Mom on the way in, and she's looking for all three of us. Although this situation isn't causing your Fun-O-Meter off the Richter scale, it's ranking rather high on the societal sense of things. We have to make an appearance for the sake of the Dugrey image."

Alex groaned, absently fixing her dress, and she sidled out the door of the room, "'Image's sake,' Tristan? Please, the Cleaver era is so passé. Nowadays, family dysfunction is the latest thing among the rich and famous…" With a blithe wave to her male companions, Alex shook her head.

"I'll catch you two down there. Excuse me while I put my makeup on…" Alex smirked, "In more ways than one.

Tristan forced out a chuckle as she sashayed out of the room. Inwardly, a smile bloomed as his younger sister's latest actions struck a chord of familiarity in his mind; a chord that he thought had long since failed to ring with its melodic tones.

Riley turned to his best friend, "So…"

Tristan's eyes narrowed as Riley's inquiring gaze swept over him, "So what?"

Riley rolled his eyes at Tristan's feigned ignorance, "So did you talk to her?"

Tristan paused, buttoning his collar as he rearranged his discarded tie, "Yeah. I did…"

Riley adjusted his own appearance, unrolling his sleeves, "Dude, this act of prolonging the explanation you're obviously gonna end up giving me is really wearing thin on my already piqued nerves…"

Tristan chuckled as he slipped on his suit jacket, "This is so payback for sending my letters to Rory in the first place, Beau."

Riley snorted, "Are you kidding me, Dugrey? If it wasn't for my nimble fingers, Rory Gilmore would still perceive you as an arrogant, insufferable jackwad not worth her time, save a fleeting glance." Riley smirked.

"Just like I kick-started your reformation – as you claim – look at it like I also kick-started your relationship."

Tristan sighed, "Or lack thereof…"

Riley nodded in comprehension, "I gather it didn't go as expected….?"

Tristan scoffed, "A year's worth of accumulated tensions and animosity let out, of course not."

Riley snorted softly, "So what's the state of your friendship?"

Immediately, Tristan softened, a remorseful shine glazing over his blue eyes, "It's in the reconstruction stages," He admitted.

"I don't think I'm ready to be close to her again, Beau, but…"

"You just can't cut her out of your life…" Riley finished. At Tristan's silence, he sighed heavily, "Look, dude, I'm your best guy friend, and Rory's a really close friend, too. So, as your best friend, it is my obligation to steer you in the right path with only your preeminent welfare in mind…"

"Or an interest that proves to be directly advantageous to _you_." Tristan gently chided, nudging Riley.

The tall brunette's mouth flopped open in mock astonishment, "Gosh, TJ, I'm absolutely astounded in your lofty regard for me."

In the middle of fixing his tie, Tristan shot a reproachful look at his best friend, and Riley shrugged, shame noticeably absent in his expression, "Dude, you know as well as I do that I'm no saint…but, frivolity aside, let me offer you a piece of advice." Riley paused to gather his thoughts.

"You and Rory share this bond, if you will. The way I see it, you two will never fully sever this connection you have. You've gotten too deep within each other to be able to function without one another." Riley glanced sideways at Tristan, his face contorted into a pensive expression.

"Even with this spat that I, for one, have no idea how the hell it blew so out of proportion, not to mention _why_ it's been prolonged for an extensive amount of time – that is completely unnecessary, by the way – you two have still found a way to stay connected whether it's through me or Paris." Riley settled his gaze directly into Tristan's eyes.

"TJ, don't let all this time, all this effort, you've put into changing yourself be marred by one slight obstacle. You know Rory, and you know yourself. I know you're aware what's going on between you two in terms of affections."

Tristan sighed heavily, "Yeah, I get it, Beau. It's just that…" Tristan trailed off as the epiphany struck his conscious mind. He met his best friend's eyes directly, an intangible clarity shining through the indigo orbs, "Right now, I have to combat her fear, and it's a fear that's been in my way this whole time." Tristan shook his head.

"I denno, Beau. Before, I was up against Dean and Jess, neither of whom really effectively charmed her the way you see that I do. This time, it's different…" Tristan met Riley's inquiring stare.

"This time, I'm up against myself…"

- - -

Rory ventured back into the Dugrey household. Immediately, the legions of eyes snapped in her direction, and the whispers ignited, crashing through the gathered socialites. Everyone wanted to know the reason why the immaculate Tristan Dugrey, charmer to all, would be liable to knocking out Logan Huntzberger, son to one of the most prominent media companies in the United States. Rory closed her eyes, attempting to bat away the gossip and hearsay gushing uncontrolled through the party. Eager to escape the flutter of conversation, she failed to see the young woman in her path until she collided with her.

"Oh, excuse me…" Rory trailed off as she glanced into the deep cerulean eyes identical to another Dugrey's. An overwhelming tension and unease radiated between the pair, and Rory shifted uncomfortably, her stare drifting downward to avoid the gaze of the slightly taller Alexandra Dugrey.

"Hi, Alex. It's nice seeing you again…"

A small smile flitted across the younger Dugrey's face, and Alex's crystal eyes twinkled warmly down at Rory, "Yeah, you too, Rory. Can't say you've come around like you used to."

Rory shrugged awkwardly, "Uh, yeah…well, it's kinda pointless with Tristan on the other side of the country." Rory fiddled with the fabric of her dress.

"Or when you're not speaking to him." Alex added, challenging the elder girl with a slight tilt of her head.

Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her head, struggling to maintain her composure as the discomfiture and shame began to worm its way through her body. Shaking her head, she let out an embarrassed chuckle, "Yeah. You got something there. But it's kinda complicated between us…" Fidgeting slightly, Rory let out an uncomfortable cough.

"Look, Alex, I didn't mean to…"

A minute flicker of distress danced across her eyes, and Alex stiffened, this time her stare diverting to the intricate patterns gracing the floor, "I know you didn't, Rory. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised."

Rory pleadingly met the younger Dugrey's gaze, "Alex, if I had known…"

Alex cut her off with a shake of her head, "No, Rory. It's okay, really." The younger Dugrey let out a cheerless scoff, "There's no way you could have possibly known." Sinking down into a chair bordering the ballroom, Alex fiddled with her hands.

"I remember when I first met him. He was so charming, so sweet, so engaging." Alex bit her lip, her brow furrowing with the intangible emotions amassing with each second that passed.

"It didn't take long until I fell for him." Alex's head shifted back and forth morosely as Rory settled down beside her, the elder girl listening with rapt attention,

"Man, did I fall hard," Alex mused, sighing heavily. Her gaze clouding over as they sparkled with a faraway glint of nostalgia, Alex bit her lip, the memories flooding back.

"It was so…_easy_ to fall for him. It seemed so effortless, so unrushed even though we'd only known each other for a few weeks. I didn't even think twice about giving him my virginity; it just seemed right." Alex shook her head.

"_Everything_ just seemed right with Logan. Maybe it was the intoxication of such a passionate relationship, maybe it was my own naivety, but there was just something about him that drew me in, and I guess I just took the leap." Alex huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

"Turns out in taking the leap, I forgot the parachute."

Rory felt her heart clench from the dual admission spewing from Alex's mouth and the agony spreading through her own heart, "So he really did…" She couldn't bear to finish her sentence.

"Cheat on me, get me pregnant, and then leave me hanging?" Alex stated, her voice tingeing with blunt detachment and the sullen frankness she had long appeased herself with. On the outside, she may have seemed nonchalant, but with Logan's sudden reappearance, each word delved deeper into the world of hurt that had long lain dormant. Burying her emotions behind an acrimonious jeer, Alex responded with a toss of her head.

"Yep."

Unwillingly, the tears began to pool in her dulled eyes, the carefully constructed façade crumbling under the onslaught of emotions she had labored to smother, "I'd be lying through my teeth if I said Logan didn't break my heart when I caught him with that girl." Alex brushed away her tears, "It hurt, you know? Like I wasn't good enough to keep. Like he'd take a nameless one-night stand over a long term relationship. That broke my heart." Alex shrugged helplessly.

"But when I found out I was pregnant, he looked at me with such revulsion that I felt so violated. Like he used me for sex then threw me away like some sort of whore. I denno…after that, nothing mattered anymore. I felt like I'd lost my worth or something…" Alex drew in a deep, sobbing breath, "He grabbed a checkbook and a pen, scribbled for a minute, then threw a blank check at me…" Alex trailed off as the memories proved to be too much for her.

"And he told me to 'take care of it.'"

Rory studied the younger girl as she struggled to maintain her composure while the thoughts ran rampant through her mind. Rory labored to appease herself with this image Alex was painting of her boyfriend. This was not the Logan _she_ knew. He would never be so heartless…would he? As the thought skated across her stream of consciousness, the doubt sizzled, bubbling to the surface. But then again, Rory couldn't say that she really knew Logan. Their relationship had gone from dislike, to no strings, to dating. The rushed time span left little instance for particulars. As Rory continued to ponder, Alex's small and timid voice, a drastic change from the shamelessly audacious seventeen year-old Rory remembered, broke through her haze of contemplation.

"When I told him it was his, Logan scoffed and he said, 'No bastard child will ever have the name Huntzberger.'" Alex swallowed hard, "He asked me if I really thought we were in love. I guess the truth was _I_ loved him but _he_ loved getting laid."

At her words, Rory glanced down, the reality ringing heavily in her mind. She did admit that Logan's conquests spread as rapidly around Yale as Tristan's had done around Chilton, but Logan had changed, just as Tristan had; Rory was sure of it.

Alex dipped her head down, shielding her eyes from view as she wiped away the tears, "He thanked me for the _great_ times we had, that they were fun, and that I had a true talent, then he had the maid show me out."

Rory stayed silent as Alex echoed Logan's horrid words, the pain evident in the younger girl's face. Alex's eyes strayed back to the ground, the endless amounts of pain veiled beneath the tears threatening to flow their path. Rory studied Alex as she drew her arms tight around her body as though the gesture would shield her from the assault of memoirs haunting her psyche. As her eyes swept over the younger girl's hunched form, Rory recognized the lack of "spark" Tristan had alluded to. When Rory had first met Tristan's sister, Alex was vibrant and vivacious, exuding an aura that seemed so full of life and exuberance. But the girl in front of her was a ghost of that girl, the vivacity that seemed to permeate to all who came into acquaintance with her dulled to a lackluster sheen, just like her eyes. Alex shook her head.

"I didn't know what to do after that…I probably stood out there for a good hour before I went to the first person I could think of. Minutes later, I ended outside Riley's apartment."

The frown adorning Rory's face deepened, "I'm sorry, Alex, but this is all so…"

Alex shook her head, "No, don't apologize. I get it. This doesn't seem like the Logan Huntzberger _you_ know." Alex heaved a sigh, "In all fairness, I didn't think he would be capable of something so malicious either."

"Look, Rory, I'm not trying to mess up anything between you and Logan. I may not be past all that yet, but I have accepted it. Just know that if he didn't change then, what makes you think he's changed now?"

"Tristan changed." Rory argued, quick in her defense of her boyfriend.

A patient smile worked its way across Alex's features, "Well, Tristan's unusual. He had a reason for his change: you, Rory. Logan's been working his game for a long time, and I don't think he's willing to amend something that's giving him such pleasure." Alex affirmed wryly, "Pardon the pun…"

The younger girl sighed heavily, struggling to illustrate the thoughts she had long worked out herself, "The difference between Tristan and Logan is that Tristan changed for you. Logan's never had a reason to amend a routine and structure that he's pretty satisfied with. I mean, he has you, but he's treating you no differently than any other of his conquests; it's just for a longer amount of time than usual."

Alex rotated to face Rory, her eyes that had lost their sheen of innocence peering directly into Rory's, "I mean think about it, Logan's life is already planned out for him, and he really doesn't have the courage to break out of his predestined mold. He's not gonna be tied down with a girlfriend for that long since, in the end, love won't be an issue. His marriage is going to be of a business arrangement that is beneficial to both companies involved. He's gotta cram as much partying and frivolity into college. Tristan found a reason to escape his fated future, and he's actually working towards a life away from the Hartford elite. He's never gonna be satisfied with a corporate job at either Dad's or Granddad's companies, and he sure as hell will never condone an arranged marriage. If my brother is in a relationship, it's for love." At Rory's dubious look, Alex hefted another sigh.

"Look, I know his conquests ran through Chilton as part of that daily gossip, but the majority weren't true." Alex held Rory's stare, "Tristan was pretty promiscuous through high school, but he only had sex with two girls, and he was in long-term relationships…well, okay, as long as they lasted for him. The rest was just fooling around." Alex shrugged, "I know that doesn't justify anything, Rory, but my brother has never cheated on another girl."

"Rory, my brother rarely holds grudges towards people, and believe it or not, he's never quick to judge or dislike. You know just as well as I do, it's hard for Tristan to truly despise a person. People normally like him." Rory cocked an eyebrow at the younger girl, and Alex chuckled.

"I did mention normally…"

Sobering, Alex met the elder girl's inquisitive blue eyes directly before turning to

Depart, "So if he hates someone, it's for a damn good reason."

As Rory stared after Alexandra Dugrey, the younger girl's words echoed in her mind. Alex was correct: in the short span of knowing Logan before dating him, Rory had seen a pattern with the many girls latched onto his arm. He would sweet talk them, take them to dinner, bed them, and forget about them in the morning. The list would go on and on how many times Finn had approached them with messages for Logan over the latest one-night stand.

Thinking even more headily, Rory perused over her latest changes as a result of dating Logan Huntzberger. In this case Tristan was right: she had been changing for Logan, daring to do things she wouldn't have in normal circumstances. At first, she thought her newfound boldness was a pleasant variation from a normally passive disposition, but in hearing Alex's words, and the consequences she had to bear with, Rory began to doubt if the exhilaration her escapades with Logan and his fellow stooges induced were worth the risk. Was she really changing for the better? Rory was left to ponder that idea as Tristan's little sister floated through the crowd.

Rory grumbled low in her throat as the conflicting thoughts pounded against the walls of her brain, alerting her mind to their presence. Mentally, she cursed Tristan Dugrey for knowing her so well, and her mind floated back to one year prior, after the event that had changed it all and to the words that had left his lips.

"**_You what I think? I think you're scared. You felt something that night, and it scared the hell out of you. Well, I felt it, too. This wasn't a one-night stand, Rory. This wasn't a fling. You know there's something here. You felt it the first time we kissed, and you feel it now. You're scared because this isn't something you've ever experienced before, and you're feeling it with me."_**

Denial battled relentlessly against her logic, but to a rational mind, Rory could not disregard the facts: Tristan was – again – right: she _was_ scared. She had chosen Logan because of his striking resemblance to the old Tristan, the Tristan that was familiar to her; the Tristan she could depend on for his persistent torture, crass innuendos, and repulsive smirk. But then he had to be shipped off to military school and return completely reformed. This new Tristan Dugrey had turned her formerly structured and tidy world upside down, worming his way into her heart with a charming smile devoid of a lewd insinuation and an engaging sparkle in his deep blue eyes. Rory _was_ scared because in a simple kiss, she had felt something not present in any previous relationship, and that something scared the shit out of her. To be honest, it still did. Rory sighed. The proverbial wrench had been thrown into the works of her notoriously complicated love life, and in all truthfulness, she had no idea what to do…

- - -

Tristan hefted a heavy sigh as he plopped down on the front steps of the Dugrey mansion. The socialites had long exited the premises in various states of inebriated stupors. Exhaling deeply, the breath ruffling the strands of his unkempt hair, Tristan rubbed his face as though the burden encumbering his chest would disappear the harder he rubbed. What a night. Tristan looked up as the familiar forms of his best friend and younger sister slid in beside him. Riley huffed a deep breath, loosening the tie around his neck. His sleeves folded to his elbows, he dazedly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Wellup…that was exciting."

Tristan snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Not most rousing of get-togethers, that's for sure."

Riley smirked, "How's the hand?"

Tristan glanced down at the fist of his right hand. The skin was slightly red, marked with the force his punches exerted on Logan's face. Flexing, Tristan shrugged.

"Nothing to cry over."

Alex gazed down at her brother's swollen knuckles, "How many times did you hit him?"

Riley quirked a grin, a chuckle bursting from his lungs, "He was going on three swings before I got to him."

Tristan shot his best friend a disgruntled look, "I don't know why you stopped me, Beau. The bastard deserved more than I was gonna dish out…"

Riley shook his head, one eyebrow shooting skyward, "Sorry to hinder your caveman tendencies, dude, but I have the opinion from the highest authority that blood is mighty difficult to clean off the floor, not to mention murder is slightly illegal…"

Tristan's handsome features darkened heavily, his jaw clenching with controlled rage, "He deserves a world of pain for what he's done…"

Surprisingly, Alex lay a firm hand on her brother's tensed shoulders, "Tris, let it go. It's done."

The angry expression softened as Tristan surveyed his younger sister, "That's unexpected coming from you, Lex…"

Dipping her head down, Alex shrugged, "I'm always gonna hate him, Tristan, and it's always gonna hurt…." Alex finished her mental contemplation with a resolute nod of her head.

"But I can't keep dwelling on it…" Biting her lip, Alex glanced out into the distance, the vast expanse of the dark night sky staring back down at her, "I guess…seeing him with Rory, as much as I felt like dying at that moment, I realized he's moved on – several times over, probably." Alex shrugged again.

"Maybe it's time I do too…" Discreetly, Alex looked over her brother's bowed head, meeting the pale gray spheres of Riley Beaumont's eyes. Inconspicuously, Riley shot her a small grin, winking cheekily at the girl across from him.

Tristan rotated to face his little sister directly, unaware of the connection established between her and his best friend. Defeatedly, he chuckled, "Yeah, well, it would still make me feel better if I decked him a couple of good ones."

Alex rolled her eyes, "Must you always resort to violence? Do you really think socking him a few times is really gonna make him rethink what happened?"

"If it's an effective method of persuasion," Tristan insisted, "I'd approach anyone the same way…"

Alex grinned, "Even Riley?"

Riley let out a scoff, "Please. I can take TJ…"

Tristan responded with a toss of his head, "Spare me, Beau. I'd totally school-boy you."

An incredulous look streaked across Riley's face, "Are you kidding, Dugrey? Or have you conveniently forgotten combat class junior year? How many rounds did it take for me to knock you out?"

Tristan rolled his eyes, waving away Riley's argument, "Oh, come on! That wasn't a fair fight. Keating was totally favoring you on points!"

A sly expression lit up Riley's face, "Oooh! Do I sense a bit of contradiction in your voice, buddy?" Throwing out his arms, he rotated to regard the imaginary audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the most prevalent emotion in Tristan Dugrey's repertoire: DENIAL!" Smirking, he returned his attention to his best friend, "Did I hit a nerve in your manly pride, TJ?"

Tristan growled, flailing out to sock his best friend on his arm, "Bite me, Beau. You and I have a rematch right now, and I'd hand your ass to you on a silver platter…"

"Personally, it looks better on gold," Riley countered, "You know, with my complexion and all…"

"What are you two, three?" Alex asked in exasperation as the two men rose to their feet, shaking off outer clothing, the playful spirit of the challenge alive in each boy's eyes.

"Five." Tristan responded, still staring heatedly into his best friend's eyes.

"Seven." Riley taunted, daring Tristan by one-upping him.

Alex reached out, tugging both men back down to either side of her. Riley smirked, cocking an eyebrow at his best friend.

"You're lucky Ali saved you from a beat down, TJ. You get mighty moody when you're sulking."

Tristan snorted, "Please, Beau. You woulda gone crying back to New York for some "Mommy and Me" time after I finished with you."

Alex shook her head, "You two are stupid…at least with all that's happened, you would have done the courtesy of sparing me from this pissing contest…"

Tristan frowned, placing a hand on his breast, "I'm hurt you think that way, baby sis."

Riley nodded his agreement, his bottom lip stuck out pitifully, "You know, TJ, I think she doesn't love us anymore…"

Alex sighed, "Is it just me or does everyone else find it amazing that you two go from arguing to complacency in zero to sixty?"

Riley grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders, "It's a gift, Ali. Really useful for annoying the masses, too."

Tristan chuckled, lying back on his elbows, "What a night, eh, guys?"

Riley nodded, leaning back as well to stare up at the night sky, "I'll say."

Alex joined her brother and his best friend, laying her head down on Riley's shoulder, reaching out to catch Tristan's hand. Staring up into the millions of stars dotting the evening abyss, Alex sighed.

"Something tells me this drama is not privy to only this night…"

- - -

Rory fidgeted nervously in her seat, playing with the silver ring that hung from a chain around her neck. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she gazed down into the deep recesses of the cup before her, filled to the brim with her darling beverage. Anxiety seized her ability to sit still, and Rory once again shifted. It had been three days since that fateful party at the Dugrey mansion, and she was still yet to hear Logan's perspective on the scandal that had rocked the Dugreys, one of the most prominent families on the East Coast. Taking a sip from the cup before her, Rory felt the scalding liquid warm her body, providing her with some encouragement for the ostensibly difficult conversation that was sure to come. In those three days, she had dutifully avoided Logan, the weight of her knowledge too much to approach him with. She needed time to process all that Riley, Alexandra, and Tristan had all divulged. The information was simply too much. Rory was perfectly aware that her boyfriend was far from perfect, but to commit such an odious act of such a callous magnitude…it was too much to handle.

"Hey, Ace."

For the first time, Rory stiffened as Logan's lips descended down, gently brushing hers. The action was not lost on the blonde as he straightened, a frown gracing his visage. Rory raised her eyes to meet his, absorbing the intense gash embedded in his lower lip as well as the deep purple bruise marring a good half of his face. Through the harlequin decorations adorning his face, Logan tilted his head, his eyes searching Rory's face.

"Hey…Ace? Is everything alight?"

On instinct, Rory began to nod, but realizing her action, she caught herself, instead reverting to a shake of her head. Sighing heavily, Rory straightened in her chair as Logan slid into the seat across from her, and she fiddled with the coffee cup before she dragged her eyes upward to meet his.

"After you left, I talked with Tristan and Alexandra Dugrey…"

Logan exhaled deeply, hiding his fear behind an arrogant toss of his head as he diverted his gaze skyward. A disdainful scoff worked its way through his throat, and Logan sent a pointed look towards his girlfriend.

"And?" He demanded, shifting to face Rory directly. In response, she cocked an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'and?'" Rory frowned, "Although I do find myself utterly astonished by this tale both of them and Riley all keep alluding to, but I find it completely staggering that I have yet to hear it from _you_."

Logan anxiously ran a hand through his meticulously tousled hair, kept into place by copious amounts of hair products, "I don't believe this, Rory! You honestly believe that crackpot story?"

"'Crackpot story?'" Rory echoed disbelief heavy in her accusatory tone, "Logan, do you honestly think that I would even consider the fact that Alex made up that story? Tristan is my best friend who has never lied to me."

"Well, there's a first time for everything…" Logan spat bitterly, "You're willing to take his word for it?"

Rory glared at him, "I don't know, Logan. I haven't heard otherwise."

"Look, Ace, yeah, I had a fling with Alex Dugrey. It was fun. But that's it. That 'kid' that supposedly mine is probably some redneck's she bumped into on the street."

Rory could only stare at the boy situated in the seat across from her. She surveyed Logan closely, unable to appease the immaturity of the blonde in her view with the knowledge of her boyfriend. Logan shook his head, dismissively.

"What _I_ don't believe is that you're making such a big deal about this." Logan retorted, shifting to the front of his chair, his arms braced tensely on the arms of his chair, "It's a simple idea, Rory. I have a fling with this girl who's infatuated with me and just as promiscuous as her brother, she gets knocked up by some random sap, and puts the blame on me saying it's my kid."

"Is that your version or the version you've forced yourself to believe?" Rory challenged as she gaped at her boyfriend, disbelief prominent in her features, "You took her virginity." Sensing Logan's firm stance of denial, despite the glimmer of doubt flashing in his eyes, in his silence, Rory shook her head in incredulity.

"I don't believe this, Logan. Is it so hard to own up to your actions?"

"It's not my problem," Logan bit out through clenched teeth.

"Well, barring the immaculate conception, I'm pretty certain that it takes two to conceive a child." Rory snapped, her face twisted with sarcasm.

Logan threw up his hands in exasperation, breaking his façade of ignorance, "What is your deal, Rory? I didn't completely leave her hanging. I gave her the check."

"My deal," Rory responded, "Is that twenty years ago, my mother was Alex and I was that unborn child!" Rory stared hard at the boy across from her, a disgusted flicker shining through the pale blue eyes darkened with annoyance.

"Do you realize how close to home this hits, Logan? What if my mother had consented to the abortion my grandmother forced on her? What if I actually had a father constant in my life who owned up to his actions? In short: I wouldn't be here if my mother didn't accept her situation!" Rory met Logan's eyes directly. The blonde shied away under her intense scrutiny, possessing enough grace to look at least partially ashamed beneath an abrasive exterior.

"Don't you get it, Logan? In this world, money can't buy everything. You can't pay everyone off every time you screw up. Every action has consequences. This is one of them…"

Logan gaped at his girlfriend, "Ace…"

Rory pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head, "No, Logan. I have a feeling you can't talk your way out of this one."

Logan swallowed hard, "Are you breaking up with me?"

Rory searched his eyes, and seeing the genuine fear shining through the dark spheres, she sighed, "No, Logan, I'm not breaking up with you…" She trailed off, gathering her thoughts.

"But I do think we need to take a break."

Midway through a sigh of relief, Logan blanched, straightening in his chair, "Wh-what?"

"I need time to process this…" Rory admitted, refusing to meet his eyes, "This…this is all so much to take in at once. I'm hurt that it happened. I'm appalled at your 'solution,' I can't believe that you didn't trust me enough to tell me… I…I just need time."

"Ace…" Logan started weakly, his tinny voice pleading for clemency.

Rory shook her head resolutely, determined to remain stanch in her standpoint, "Don't, Logan. This isn't something I can just forgive and forget. This is serious. It's not just about the fact you fathered a child with another woman or you tried to pay her off to get rid of her or even that you refuse to own up to your actions; this is more than that. This is that you've never bothered to even tell me about it. I may be wrong, but there's an implicit amount of trust in a relationship, and if you don't trust me with such a significant factor, I don't know what kind of relationship this is."

Logan slumped down, a defeated expression crossing his face, "Okay, Ace. Take all the time you need. You…you know where to find me…"

Rory sighed as Logan stood from his seat, a downcast look marring his attractive features. Despondently, he dipped his head down, hesitating before brushing a soft kiss to her forehead. As his back disappeared down the avenue, his posture slumped and dejected, Rory hung her head, cradling it on her palms. Leaning back in her chair, she allowed her head to loll back against the support of the seat. This was all so much, the burden weighing heavy on her chest.

Rory thought back to her boyfriend. She had known he was flawed, but she felt something with him; something she believed she could change. But there was another facet to the Logan Huntzberger who had existed in her life for the past year, and it was a facet that annoyed her to no end: his stubborn refusal to grow up. The life of Logan Huntzberger revolved around girls, parties, and extravagance – in that order. In his profligate existence, there left little room for reality and the world outside the structure and predictability of Yale, and Rory feared he wouldn't be able to provide the lack of stability that she so desperately needed. Beneath the cool and confident façade of Logan Huntzberger lay a juvenile boy fighting tooth and nail to avoid responsibility and his given future. Buried under the parties and reckless behavior was a boy not quite prepared for the real world and the soon-to-be absence of the cushy and comfortable lifestyle his wealth assured for his future. Simply put: Logan Huntzberger wasn't ready to grow up, and Rory wasn't sure that was what she wanted…

- - -

Alex Dugrey mulled over the thoughts swirling deep in her head before a steaming mug of coffee slid into her line of vision. Craning her head upward, she smiled, receiving a kiss from Riley as he slid into the seat beside her. His pale eyes shielding the sun with a pair of dark glasses, Riley's brows drew together with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Shaken from her reverie, Alex shot a small smile over to the man across from her – her boyfriend. Inwardly, she beamed. Never would she have thought that she would willingly give her heart away again. Never would she have thought that Riley would make her feel the way she did. But in retrospect, it all seemed right. He just seemed right. It was a different kind of "right" than with Logan; this relationship had been painstakingly forged through the years they had known each other. She glanced up at his boyishly tousled hair falling onto the dark lenses that shielded his light eyes

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

Riley's mouth curved in his lopsided half-smile as he cocked an eyebrow, and Alex braced himself for one of his sharp responses, "Because you've got this look on your face that's seriously making me consider turning tail and bolting…"

Alex wrinkled her nose, reaching out to sock Riley on the arm. Grinning, he intercepted her wrist, gently dragging her chair forward towards him. Leaning in, a cheeky grin splayed across his face, Riley tenderly brushed her nose with his.

"Good thing I've got a rather resilient nature."

Alex grinned as he lowered his head downward, capturing her lips in his. Sifting her hands through his hair, she pulled him even closer, reveling in the softness of the strands between her fingers and the intoxicating taste of his lips.

Pulling away, Alex skimmed her fingers down from his brown locks to the sunglasses veiling his eyes, removing the shadowy squares to bare the pewter orbs. Quirking a small smile, Alex brushed a quick kiss against his upturned lips.

"For your misinformed mind, nothing is wrong. I was simply thinking about you."

Riley leaned back, placing a hand over his breast, "Ah, the things you do to swell my ego."

"Among other parts of your anatomy." Alex responded, a sly smirk flitting across her face. Riley started at her words, his eyes snapping in her direction. It was something the old Alex would be so quick to say, and he allowed a delighted grin to bloom. In that minute moment, the old spark flared, igniting for that one second, and Riley shrugged.

"Well, you're welcome to swell any part of my anatomy…"

Alex giggled as he ghosted a kiss against her forehead, "I'm really starting to like the perks of being your girlfriend."

Riley laughed, "Oh, babe, the perks are just starting. Just wait until Valentine's Day."

Alex's nose squinched up, "I denno, Beaumont. That's pretty lofty ambitions to believe we'd last that long."

"Hey, I'm very dependable with habitual showerings of roses and chocolates." Catching the look on her face, Riley amended his statement, "Not a roses girl? Don't worry. I can do lilies…"

As his mind registered Alex's expression as serious, and Riley cocked an eyebrow, "You really think I'd do a Huntzberger and be stupid enough to let you go? Please, Ali. That's just an insult to my intelligence…"

Alex smiled, turning into his touch as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her soft skin, "Well, I'd never even _think_ about doing that…"

Riley grinned, "So, really, is anything wrong?"

Alex shook her head, "Nope. I'm just happy."

"Understood…" Riley leaned back, "So how about I make you even happier?"

Alex turned an interested expression to her boyfriend, "Really? How would you suppose you would do that?"

Riley chuckled, "Well…I was thinking you and me go on our first date. You know, dinner and a movie? Preferably some lip-to-lip contact…?"

Alex giggled, "You don't need a movie as an excuse for _that_…"

Riley nodded his agreement, "Yeah, but then I wouldn't get the chance to try the whole yawn-and-casually-rest-my-arm-across-the-back-of-your-chair deal." Grinning, he tilted his head expectantly at the blonde beside him, "So, what do you think?"

Alex smiled, peeking up at him through lowered lashes, "I think…"

"Riley?"

The couple whirled at the intrusion of a third voice, and Riley sprung to his feet, whipping to face their new companion, "Paris?"

Paris Gellar tentatively approached the brunette, hesitant to advance, "I thought that was you."

Riley shook his head, breaking himself from a jaunt to the past, "Yeah. It's me. There's not that many people who bear such a resemblance." Motioning to the empty chair, Riley allowed his eyes to drift down to Paris'.

"Uh, would you like to join us?"

Paris turned her attention to his companion, still seated, and her dark eyes warmed, "Alex. It's nice to see you. I'm assuming Riley accompanied you to a brotherly lunch?"

As Riley lit up, ready to reveal the real status behind their relationship, Alex cut him off before he could speak, "Um, yeah. Since Tristan's busy with some things back at Granddad's, Riley decided to be a gentleman and entertain me for a while." Regarding her boyfriend with a coy smile, Alex sent a reassuring glance in his direction in response to the utterly befuddled look adorning his face. Gathering her things she turned to face Riley.

"I should actually get going. Granddad's expecting me."

Still baffled at her reaction, Riley reached out to catch her arm, "But…"

Alex rose up on her toes, ghosting a kiss across his cheek in an effort to pacify his potent confusion as she sent him an encouraging smile, "I'll call you later."

With a wave to Paris, Alex departed, and Riley sank down into his seat, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. Returning his attention to Paris, Riley forced out a friendly smile.

"So how's it been going with you?"

Paris shrugged, "It's been going well. The paper's really flourishing, and I'm very pleased with my position."

Riley grinned, nodding his head, "Yeah, it wasn't a surprise seeing your name accompanied with the title of editor…you always were ambitious like that."

Paris beamed, "A little hard work never killed me."

"Yet…" Riley teased, cocking an eyebrow.

Paris laughed, "Trust me, Beaumont. Considering the life I lead, I'm under the high authority that the cause of my death will be completely natural."

Riley chuckled, "I'm actually leaning towards self-inflicted." The moment of mirth erasing the years of thick tension between the two as a result of a relationship undefined, Riley felt strangely at ease for the first time around Paris.

"So, uh, how's your boyfriend…? What's his name?" Riley snapped his fingers in an effort to remember, "Uh, Boyle?"

"Doyle." Paris corrected. Her eyes drifting downward, she refused to meet his inquisitive gaze fixated on her lowered head.

"We're…exploring options."

Riley leaned back in his chair, hiding an amused smile behind the hand cradling his chin on an upraised arm, "'Exploring options,' huh?" Shifting, he made himself comfortable in the chair that barely contained his tall frame as he shot her an interested look.

"Does that involve a third party or is he not into that?"

Paris rolled her eyes, "Simply put, that's a really delicate way of saying we're taking a break."

Riley chuckled, propping his ankle on his knee, "Seems to be a common theme among the masses."

Paris stared down at the ground, nodding, "Yeah, well, sometimes you have to search to find the right one."

"And sometimes that search means exploring your options…?" Riley ventured, dipping his head down to meet Paris' eyes.

Paris huffed a rueful chuckle, "Yeah. It does." Peering into the silver spheres peeking out through the tousled strands falling onto his forehead, Paris cocked her head inquisitively at the tall brunette man.

"What about you, Riley? So far, I've heard nothing relationship-wise about the star of Yale's soccer team."

Riley ran a hand through the brown locks atop his head, a flash of uncertainty appearing before an indulgent smile worked its way to his lips, "Uh, well, this soccer star is spoken for…"

Paris shielded the regret well, hiding the flare of remorse behind a stoic mask, "Well, I'd say a collective groan is to be heard from the female population."

Riley's cheeks reddened as he diverted his gaze, and Paris looked on amused. Even with all his burgeoning fame and devastating good-looks, Riley Beaumont still remained the same unassuming, unpretentious man he always was.

"I'd think of it more as a hoard of cheers from the male side…"

Paris stared at Riley, witnessing his slight fidgeting, "Well, I'd say that whoever you're dating is one lucky girl."

Riley hefted out a chuckle, "I'd think it wouldn't be presumptuous if I said I was the lucky one." Raising his brilliant gray gaze to a sharp brown pair of eyes beside him, Riley met Paris Gellar's eyes directly.

"We never did have great timing."

Paris smiled ruefully, "No. We didn't." Hesitantly, her stare locked onto Riley's, "But I do have to know…is there a shot for us?"

Riley's brow furrowed, taken aback by the question. Pausing, he gathered his thoughts before shaking his head, "No. Not now." Sighing heavily, he raised a serious gaze to Paris' inquiring eyes, an intense resolution shining behind the pewter orbs.

"I made a promise to her, and I'm not gonna break that promise. She's been through too much for me to even think about tampering with her trust. Not when she's taking such a step in offering it to me in the first place."

As realization dawned on Paris, she nodded in comprehension. Her logical mind registered his insinuation, and she couldn't help but succumb to the situation. She had made the mistake of letting him go, and now, that mistake was beginning to show its repercussions. Forcing out a smile, she inclined her head to Riley.

"Well, I hope you make her happy, Riley."

Riley gave a short nod of his head in gratitude. Sure, before he had such intense feelings for Paris Gellar; feelings he knew were not quite resolved, nor had he received any closure, but there was such a protective nature to him when it came to Alex. There was something about her that made him want to shield her behind him and bat away all the atrocities reality was prone to offer. Riley opened his mouth to express his thanks when Paris' next line caught him unsuspecting.

"Lord knows Alex needs some joy in her life, and you're the perfect man for the job."

Riley started, whirling to stare open-mouthed at Paris as she stood, gathering her bag. Smirking in entertainment at the bewildered expression splayed on his features, Paris shook her head.

"I've known the Dugreys since diapers, Beaumont. Do you really think I'd be oblivious so such developments?"

Leaning down to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, Paris cocked an eyebrow, "Now, I wonder what Tristan will think of said development…"

Riley blanched slightly, his eyes widening at her words. His gaze fixated on her swaying blonde hair as she disappeared around the corner, Riley gulped, his primary fear worming its way back into his consciousness. TJ was going to kill him…

- - -

Logan Huntzberger stumbled through the Yale courtyard, dazedly unaware of his surroundings. Slumping down against a tree, he raised the half-empty bottle to his lips, throwing down the clear liquid. Bitterly, he cursed the Dugreys. If he hadn't met that damn Alexandra, none of this would have happened, and he would be contently with Rory.

Rearing back, he chucked the bottle across the courtyard, reveling in the resonant crash of glass against pavement, and he thought back to the source of his troubles. When he first met Alexandra Dugrey, she seemed like every other hot blonde on the market. Then he got to know her, and she had dazzled him with a quick wit and sardonic dislike of all things socialite, and he felt an intangible pull from his waistline in her direction. The only problem was the hulking brunette-haired, gray-eyed guard dog that had six months' worth of Yale weight training beneath his chiseled and muscular frame. Oh yeah, she was hot. That was for sure. And she exuded such an innocence that the player in him was immediately drawn to her. He had wooed her, courted her, and lavished her with gifts and words of sweet nothings until she had consented to a date. A roll in the hay had commenced after, and he had the immense pride of being her first: the guy who popped the proverbial cherry. His friends had gotten quite a kick out of that situation.

Logan allowed his head to loll back, his thoughts drifting in their drunken haze to the past. He relished his time with Alex Dugrey. Her visits came frequently, giving him enough time for a few trysts with his latest blonde before she would come up for the only weekend. She was good; he would give her that, but he was only appeasing her image of the perfect boyfriend. In reality, Logan Huntzberger wasn't one to get tied down. So as Alex Dugrey returned to Hartford with blissful dreams of her flawless beau, he was busy coercing his latest conquest for a quickie in the closest dark corner.

He couldn't understand the source of Rory's frustration. She had witnessed this type of thing with him for a long time. So what made this time different? So what if he knocked up Alexandra Dugrey? Did she really think that he wanted the baby? The last thing he needed was a bouncing mini Huntzberger pattering around his house. As if enough responsibility had already forced its way into his existence...Logan resolutely shook his head, almost reeling as the movement wracked his already rickety balance. No, he had done the best thing for himself, and there was no way he was going to regret it.

Through his alcohol-induced stupor, Logan cocked his head as a pair of designer sneakers parked themselves in his line of vision. Tracing the sneakers up to the face owning the body, Logan grinned stupidly, sending a wave in the general direction of the three faces of Finns wavering in his eyesight.

"Aussie! How lovely to see you on this fine day!"

Finn cocked an eyebrow at the heavily slurred salutation. As the sharp aroma of vodka drifted through his nostrils, the Aussie shook his head, reaching out to heft a staggering Logan to his feet.

"Alright, mate, let's tow you home before you take your habitual pilgrimage to the porcelain gods."

Logan giggled at the word, "But Finny, I'm feeling bumbly!" At his err, Logan began to crack up again, waving his hands, "I mean, stumbly! I'm feeling stumbly!" His face contorting at his drunken logic, Logan swayed. Finn shook his head, steadying his friend.

"Don't hurt yourself trying to sort that one out, mate." Confused at what could possibly provoke the unflappable Huntzberger into such an inebriated state, Finn began to drag his best friend away from the general public that could possibly provoke Logan's intoxicated rage. As he stumbled along, Logan growled slightly, a slurred sentence burst from his mouth.

"Damn Dugreys…"

- - -

Rory trumped into her grandparents pool house, utterly exhausted with the day's events. Throwing her purse and keys on the coffee table, she plumped down on the couch. Catching her answering machine blinking with messages that were yet to be heard, Rory sighed heavily, throwing one arm across her face. Groping for the play button, Rory allowed her head to loll back as the each message played.

"_Hey, luv, it's Finn. Um, would you care to explain to me why I've found my good mate, Logan, huddled against a tree, fisting a bottle of vodka, and looking like his puppy's just been punted the length of a football field? I'd ask him myself, but apparently after a few bottles of Smirnoff, you're hardly intelligible…Call me."_

"_Uh, hi, Rory. Colin here. Could you tell me why Finn's carrying a stumbling Logan through my dorm? Because, you know, it's normally the other way around…Confused is just about the pinnacle right about now. See you."_

"_Hey, Rory. It's Steph. You would think by now that I'd be used to the antics of our good buds the Three Stooges, but Colin's just come by to dump a moderately buzzed Finn and a shit-faced Logan on my dorm floor. Apparently, this has something to do with you…How? Still trying to coax a coherent sentence out of either of them…Get back to me when you can." _

Skipping over the rest of her messages, Rory leaned back against her couch, letting out a scream of annoyance. As a knock sounded on her door, Rory looked up as Emily Gilmore's elegant face poked through the doorway.

"Rory, dear, your grandfather and I will be going out tonight, and we were wondering if you would care to join us. I'm sure the ladies from the DAR would be delighted to see you."

Forcing out a regretful shake of her head, Rory inwardly grimaced, "I'm sorry, Grandma, but I'm not really up for a night out. I think I'll just stay in."

Emily nodded, "That's fine, Rory. If you want, you could invite some of your friends over. I'm sure Mariana can whip up a pizza for you."

Rory shook her head, "I'm fine, Grandma. If I need anything, I'll be fine…"

As Emily turned to depart, she whirled back to her granddaughter, "Oh, and Rory? I'm sure you know Tristan Dugrey is back in town. Perhaps he is up for some catching up? I know how close the two of you are."

Rory forced out a chuckle, "Somehow, Grandma, I don't think Tristan and I have that much catching up to do…"

Again, Emily nodded her head in comprehension, "Yes, well, if you do need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Rory nodded, sending a reassuring smile to her grandmother, "Of course, Grandma."

With a final backward glance, Emily Gilmore disappeared through the doorway, and watching her grandmother retreat back into the house, Rory burrowed back into the cushions of the couch. With her tiff with Logan, Rory was left with limited options to entertain herself. Leaning back, Rory frowned, weighing those options in her mind, and coming with absolutely nothing aside from a rousing round of one-man charades, she hefted a sigh, allowing her head to flop down on the back of the couch. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar navy and gray garment draped over the back of her chair, and she contemplated her alternatives. Well, now was as good a time as ever.

- - -

Tristan slumped down against the cushy pillows of the central couch of his grandfather's movie theater, idly flipping through the channels. Simply put, he was bored. Riley was off meeting with his agent to square away a deal with his latest book, Alex was with their grandfather for some bonding time, and Paris…wasn't too reliable for frivolous entertainment…

The resounding chime of the doorbell alerted his senses, and Tristan groaned, hefting himself off the couch to totter towards the door. Wrenching open the entryway, Tristan blinked at the figure behind, cocking his head in bafflement.

"Rory?"

_Snap! End scene. And I leave you hanging again, especially after the long wait. Yes, rather cruel of me, but there is a reason for that. It's mainly because putting the next scene in this chapter would be so anti-climactic. The next chapter will serve as a catch-up to both Tristan and Rory to reacquaint themselves with the present, if you will. This little encounter – which will not be devoid of a bit of drama – will serve as the starting point for the reconstruction of their friendship that will ultimately lead to a Lorelai reunion and a patch-up of Rory's confidence. How they get there…well, that's my little secret. You may be asking about the Logan/Rory situation. No, they haven't broken up quite yet. Rory still feels strongly towards him, and will be torn between him and Tristan. You didn't think that factor would play out that simply, did you? That just wouldn't be fun… _

_On another side of the dating spectrum, the Alex/Beau relationship will start to heat up, but not without some complications…that's for sure. With Paris now on the market, how will Beau handle the prospectives? More importantly, will Alex trust him not to do anything? Remember, Alex is still reeling from the reappearance of Logan in her life, and she is still slow to trust, even if it is Riley, and that may prove to have some complications. As for their actual relationship, so far they have been keeping it a secret from Tristan, and how will he react? Well, that is still to be seen…Stay tuned and pay attention to details!_

_Roxy_


	11. Know I'll Always Love You

**Disclaimer: **_The usual applies: I don't own anything…_

_Whew! I finally finished this chapter. I apologize for the delay, but I think I'm coming down with a Fitzgerald complex. I swear I revised this chapter about five times before I was satisfied. I wasn't really pleased with the last chapter, only because it didn't seem to fit quite as well with the previous ones, but at the time, I couldn't really think of any way to fix it. I apologize profusely for that. _

_I got some complaints about Rory's refusal to break up with Logan, and I'd like to defend – if you will – my reasons for that. First, Rory believes that she can change Logan, a detail that obviously, will not happen so she is willing to see if he really is worth keeping. Second, she is confused. The Logan Tristan, Riley, and Alex are describing is nothing like the one she knows, and she wants to find out who is the real Logan. Again, everything will be straightened out later._

_Anyway, here is chapter eleven, and I hope this is better!_

**Chapter 11**

_Know I'll Always Love You_

_but Right Now I Just Don't Like You_

Tristan allowed his brow to furrow as he surveyed the girl that stood before him. Rory Gilmore waited patiently as Tristan's mind mollified itself with the idea of her situated at his door. He cocked his head suspiciously at her hands, one grasping a shopping bag teeming with junk food, the other in possession of an array of DVDs, the titles panning the spectrum from _Not Another Teen Movie_ to _Brokeback Mountain_. One eyebrow cocked in confusion, Tristan gazed expectantly down at Rory Gilmore.

"Uh…hi?"

Rory tilted her head, regarding the tall blonde with a teasing glance, "Wow, Dugrey. Normally you're so quick with the witty opening line."

Tristan mock-glared, raising his chin in defiance, "Yeah, well, my surprise at your impromptu presence – which has been absent from my life for a good year – seems to have cuckolded my characteristically clever nature."

"I would've never guessed." Rory deadpanned, a wry smile gracing her features.

A corner of Tristan's mouth curved upward in a smile, and he gestured to the bag, "I can only gather the reason for this spur-of-the-moment visit."

Rory shrugged, "I figured we could have a movie night. You know, like old time's sake."

One eyebrow flicked skyward at the phrase, "'Old time's sake?" Tristan echoed, crossing his arms in amusement, "Rory, 'old time's sake' holds the connotation that you're experiencing problems in your love life. Considering your chosen beau, that is not a territory in which I would like to indulge."

Rory rolled her eyes as he stepped back, permitting her entrance into Janlan Dugrey's home, "What makes you think I'm having guy problems?"

Tristan huffed a dry chuckle, leading her along the familiar path to the movie room, flopping onto the sofa, "Because you always initiate a movie night, especially with me, when you hit a rock with a relationship." Tristan quirked an eyebrow, "But I'm guessing, in this case, it's more akin to a rather large boulder."

At Rory's silent glare, he continued, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth, "You like to watch movies because the endings are always happy in romances, and you like to keep that hope that whatever relationship is giving you trouble will end up as happy as the ones in the movies…"

Tristan leaned back, craning his head backward to survey Rory over the back of the couch, "So what is it, Gilmore? Has the reality that Logan Huntzberger is a complete and utter jackass finally bashed you in with a two-by-four?"

The upside-down image of Rory shook her head, "It's not about that…"

The smirk on Tristan's face failed to waver as he stared at her intently, entertained with her stubborn denial, "So why are you here then?"

Her head disappeared from view as Rory stooped down, withdrawing a familiar navy and gray garment from the depths of her shopping bag, "I came to return your jacket."

At the sight of his Amherst letterman's jacket, Tristan whipped his head forward, rotating to face her properly, "Rory, you've had that thing since I gave it to you senior year. What palpable urge is driving you to return it now?"

"I was in the neighborhood to give it back," Rory protested in her own defense.

Tristan let out a snort of laughter, "In the neighborhood? When you live at the very north end of Hartford?" Tristan's grin widened, "The only thing south of here worth visiting is Stars Hollow, and according to sources, you are very adamant about staying away." Rising from the couch, Tristan stared down his best friend.

"You wanna try that again?"

Rory growled, scowling at the tall blonde, resisting the urge to smack the self-satisfied grin off of his face, his accuracy at the situation aside. Glaring defiantly into his cool blue eyes, Rory sent her wave of chocolate hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head.

"You know, I seem to remember these movie nights being _silent_."

A corner of Tristan's mouth twitched in an entertained smile at her abrupt departure from the subject at hand, "Wow, your mind sure has succumbed to delusions over the years, Gilmore." Tristan mused, leaning in, an impish grin decorating his full lips, "Because I distinctly recall a certain Rory Gilmore diligently reciting every single audible line in the movie _Grease 2_." At her indignant glare, Tristan smirked, continuing to goad her.

"Or what about the mantra I received from you during that night I got into a fight with Jess." Tristan paused, pretending to ponder.

"Didn't it go something like," He lofted his voice to a girlish falsetto, "'Tristan! Do you mind not pausing the movie every time Angelina Jolie's chest appears on the screen? Getting closer to the image is not going to make them anymore real, and I'm not just talking about the fact that it's digitally recreated on the TV screen!'?" Tristan cocked his head.

"If that's silence, Mary, I'd hate to fathom the absolute uproar that would be noise."

Rory narrowed her eyes, "Right now, Tristan I'm torn between skepticism that you actually thought up that crap and bemusement in wondering if you just _like_ hearing yourself talk."

Tristan mocked sighed, placing a hand on his breast and flicking an imaginary tear from his eye, "Ah, there she goes. Insulting me again. How I was beginning to miss those. Geeze, Rory, I'm just weepy with nostalgia…" Propping his chin on his fist, Tristan shook his head.

"I believe it's you who loves hearing me talk, Rory." At her dubious cock of an eyebrow, Tristan waggled his eyebrows.

"After all, it is you who goads me into these conversations."

Grinning in triumph at the roll of her eyes, the tell tale signal that she had conceded, Tristan laughed as Rory lashed out, smacking him in the arm.

"As much as I would love to continue to hear the sonorous timbre of your voice, Tristan. I came here to watch a movie."

Tristan chuckled, "Then watch we shall." Stooping down, he grasped the bag and DVDs at her feet, throwing her over a shoulder. Laughing at the sound of her indignant squeals, her small fists pounding into his back accompanying insistent protests that she be released, Tristan unceremoniously dumped her onto the couch, flopping down beside her.

"So, Rory, what odiously sappy movie have you chosen to commence this long-standing ritual of ours?"

Irritably blowing the hair that had wandered onto forehead aside, her face red with the duality of both exasperation and the sensation of her impromptu inverted position, Rory proffered out a DVD.

"_The Outsiders_?" Tristan cocked an eyebrow, appraising the title of the movie clutched in her hand, "Reveling in your newly-minted Soc status, Rory?"

Rolling her eyes, Rory refuted his statement with a blithe shake of her head, her eyes glazing dreamily over, "No, just wanting to ogle Rob Lowe dripping wet and clad only in a towel."

"Really?" Tristan teased, nudging her with a shoulder, "I could have sworn you were partial to Tom Cruise's snaggle tooth."

Rory wrinkled her nose, "Please. The 'Ew!' factor has skyrocketed ever since he started dating a girl who had crush on him as a child…"

Tristan chuckled, "Doesn't that constitute something like cradle robbing?"

"I think so. Especially since she was probably still in the cradle when he became big."

Tristan shrugged, "I denno in my opinion, she's still hot."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Tristan, in your opinion, every girl with a functioning vagina is hot."

A sly smile working his way across his face at the trap she had just walked into, Tristan waggled his eyebrows, "So you think…"

Rory wrinkled her nose, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks, "Ugh. I don't even wanna know what you're implying with that statement."

Tristan chuckled with glee, reaching over to push a button on his watch, the device beeping in response. Throwing her a cheeky grin, he turned to her, his arms raised in a victorious pump, his voice deepening to mimic an announcer, "Score! Ladies and gentleman, we have set a world record. Three minutes and fifty seven seconds was all it took to make Rory Gilmore blush!" Bobbing his head in acknowledgement to the imaginary cheers, Tristan playfully chucked Rory's chin.

"After all these years, I still can get you blushing redder than a stop sign." Tristan mused, "You still have that innocence about you." Tristan leaned in, his face inches from hers, "Which still hasn't lost its appeal."

Resisting the catch in her throat at his close proximity, Rory shot him a reproving look, "What's with you and innocent girls?"

Tristan grinned, leaning back, his arms spread wide in an embracing gesture "Everything, _Mary_. The innocent ones turn out to be downright primal in bed…"

Rory responded with a toss of her head, "You disgust me."

"You flatter me." Tristan retorted teasingly, relishing in his ability to rile her up.

Rory huffed out a sigh, returning her attention back to the screen as she popped the DVD in, turning the volume up, "Let's just watch the movie…"

"As you wish." Tristan answered, his grin widening annoyingly.

As the opening credits rolled across the screen, she snuck a glance at Tristan, rolling her eyes at the smug smirk on his face. Catching her stare, Tristan's smirk broadened. Rory narrowed her eyes, her pink tongue poking out in a gesture of defiance. His shoulders quivering in silent chuckles, Tristan brought his hand to rest palm down beneath his chin, waggling his fingers cheekily. Rory glared before returning her eyes to the movie, but Tristan's steady gaze remained on hers, studying the brunette girl for a moment. In their short time together, they had settled into their old routine of offhand banter as if the previous year hadn't existed. Tristan frowned before wriggling back into the cushions. Dubiously, he stared at the girl beside him, not quite the version of Rory Gilmore that existed two years prior. He desperately wished that their relationship would revert to the way it was long ago, but that option remained sadly unavailable. They had slept together. Feelings had been revealed that were supposed to remain privy to the innermost workings of the heart. He had said things, she had said things, and now with the presence of Logan Huntzberger in Rory's life, Tristan knew the relationship they once shared and cherished had changed. Nothing drastic…well, disregarding the fact tat they hadn't spoken in a year…they were still as close as ever, but that underlying emotion would always linger. And it was an emotion neither seemed to wish to acknowledge, let alone act on.

- - -

Riley brought his hand up to knock before pausing. Withdrawing his closed fist for a moment, he took a step back from the door. Scratching the small patch of hair beneath his lower lip, Riley sighed, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through the unkempt locks of his deep brown hair. Gathering his wits, Riley rapped solidly on the wooden door. The entryway opened immediately, and Riley perked his head up to stare into the inquisitive clear blue eyes of Alexandra Dugrey. Retreating slightly, one hand braced on the door, Alex cocked her head at the man fidgeting uncomfortably across the threshold.

"Riley? What are you doing here?"

Riley stared, the words leaving his mouth in a rush as he absorbed at her appearance. Clad in an old t-shirt and sweats, bunny slippers poking from beneath the tattered hems, and her hair casually tossed up in a messy ponytail, and her bangs wandering down from the bunch, he thought she looked more radiant than the night of the party all glammed up. Shaking his head bemusedly at the utter cheesiness of his previous notion, Riley composed himself, and glancing away slightly, he shoved his hands in his pockets. When he returned his gaze to hers, he lifted his shoulders in a gesture of uncertainty, "I didn't really know I needed a reason."

Alex caught the flicker beneath his gray orbs, and she stepped back, ushering him into the house. As Riley turned to face her, she leaned back against the door, regarding him with a skeptical air. His hands stuffed deep into the pockets of the well-worn jeans, his posture tensed beneath the dark maroon vintage t-shirt,

"Hey, are you okay?"

Riley scratched the back of his neck, anxiously fiddling with the silver medallion dangling below the base of his throat, "I denno. Callous disregard sure does wonders to ways of the ego."

Alex nodded from her place against the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a small smile on her face as she shook her head, "Huh. Well, I guess I deserved that one."

Riley's clear pewter gaze settled unwaveringly on hers, "Ali, are you really ready for a relationship? Be honest with me."

Alex averted her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Pushing off from the door, she moved over to the living room couch, settling down on the cushions. As Riley moved to the spot beside her, she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.

"I thought I was, Riley. I really did think I was, but…"

Riley dipped his head down to catch her lowered gaze, concern shining prominently in his beautiful eyes, "But what?"

Alex shook her head morosely, "Seeing Logan again, seeing Paris and knowing what you two shared. Knowing what I do about her break up with Doyle. I can't help but wonder…"

"Hey." Riley's deep voice firmly interrupted her musings. Undeterred by her stubborn refusal to meet his eyes, Riley gently cradled her chin, struggling to mask the hurt when she stiffened with his touch. Turning her gaze to his, his own deep gray eyes sparked intensely with resolution, "Hey."

As her eyes finally flicked upward to meet his, he leaned in, gently stroking her cheek, "I know this is hard, and I know you're risking a lot by being with me. But if you're not ready, don't force it. I care about you, Alex. I'll never hurt you."

"He promised me the same thing…"

Riley sighed in frustration at the implication behind the statement, muttering beneath his breath, "Sometimes I think murdering Logan Huntzberger will make a helluva lotta lives a whole lot better." Glancing up at her through lowered lashes, he stared straight into her eyes, his stare unwavering.

"I know this might be difficult to ask, but I need you to take a chance on me, Ali. Take a chance on _us_." Searching her somber eyes, he grasped her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

"Today, Paris asked me if there was a chance that she and I would get back together, and I told her no." Drawing her even closer, Riley gazed up into her eyes.

"Don't you get it, Ali? I want to be with _you_. No one else. I want to step outside this door with _you_, holding hands, and when someone asks what we are, I want to say – I want _you_ to say without hesitation – that we are together. But most of all, I want you to be comfortable with this relationship."

A long silence assaulted his hearing, and Riley waited patiently. Alex sighed, "I'm sorry, Riley. I just…"

"Got scared." Riley finished, nodding his head, "Boy, do I know." Easing himself back against the couch cushions, he allowed a rueful chuckle to rumble in his throat, "Do you realize how freaky it is dating you, knowing that you're my best friend's sister? You know, I'm crossing boundaries here. There's an unwritten rule that you don't go for the sister."

"But you did," Alex mused.

"Fought tooth and nail all the way," Riley sheepishly admitted. His face grew serious as he fiddled with the platinum band around his finger, "You know…I kicked myself when the whole Logan deal happened. If I had just pushed away that fear and told you how I felt, none of this would have happened."

Alex shook her head, "Riley, you can't beat yourself up over that."

"Well, it helps my conscience." Riley permitted a small grin to worm across his face. Gazing directly into Alex's dubious eyes, his own shining with his stubborn determination, Riley reached over to gently grasp her hand. The simple gesture brought her eyes to focus on his, "Look, Ali. You deserve a chance at love, and I think I can give that to you. I just need you to trust me."

Alex gazed deep into his silver stare, the pale gray spheres pulling her in with his genuine sincerity. Making her decision right then and there, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his, her hands sliding up his chest to twine around his neck. Riley tightened his arms around her, securing her in the strong circle of his arms. As his lips drifted over hers, Alex suppressed a heavy sigh as she lost herself into the blurry emotions sweeping though her body. Pulling away, she smiled as his forehead came down to rest on hers.

"I'm sorry, Riley. This – us – was just so unexpected, and to be honest, I'm scared."

Riley shook his head, "Don't be sorry. So'm I." Tightening his embrace, Riley pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I'm never gonna hurt you, Alex. Never."

Alex nodded, "I'm starting to get that vibe. I'm not going to lie to you, Riley, it's gonna take me a while to get used to this idea." Pausing, she took his other hand, twining her fingers through his. Tilting her head back, a shy smile curled the corners of her mouth, "But I think I'm ready for us."

Riley quirked his trademark grin, his eyes lighting up with boyish delight, "So, is it safe to say we've really started dating? No more hiding or evading the question when someone asks?"

Alex giggled as his wandering lips skimmed down to her pulse point, ""I'd say so."

Riley smirked against her soft skin, "So I can run out this door and holler to the whole world that you're mine?"

Alex rolled her eyes, "Considering you'd never do that, I'd tell you to go knock yourself out."

One of Riley's eyebrows shot upward in amusement, "You sure about that?"

The pale blue spheres of Alex's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You wouldn't dare…"

"Never dare a Beaumont…" Riley waggled his finger at his girlfriend, "I got kicked into Amherst because of one."

Quirking an eyebrow, Alex smirked, "Taking into account what happened there, it's safe to say I should thank whoever dared you."

Riley returned the gesture, leaning in even closer, "And I should be thanking TJ for being a complete jackass and getting sent there."

"Nice to know my deadbeat brother is good for something."

"Now if only that extended to a broader spectrum…"

Alex allowed her eyes to drift close as Riley's tender mouth grazed hers. Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue access, her hands raking through his thick hair. His arms drifted down from cradling her cheek to encircle her waist, his warm, pliant fingers dancing beneath the fabric of her shirt to lightly knead the flesh heated from his scorching touch. On her own volition, she gently pushed him back against the back of the couch, swinging one leg over to straddle his jean-clad hips. At the new weight encumbering his torso, Riley's gaze drifted open to stare at a t-shirt-covered chest. Averting his eyes to the deep blue spheres, he nervously licked his lips, catching a taste of her fruit-flavored lip-gloss. Swallowing hard, he shook the hair from his eyes with a slight toss of his head.

"Ali, what are you doing?"

In response, Alex removed the elastic band securing her golden mane, allowing the waves to cascade down her back. Leaning in, bracing her arms against the back of the couch, Alex smirked, the movement brought her face closer to Riley's. Breathing heavily at her stifling proximity, Riley forced out a weak chuckle.

"You know, babe, this isn't such a good idea. Especially with the serious talk we just had."

Alex giggled as she shifted on his lap, the motion prompting a strangled, guttural groan from the man beneath her. Brushing a sweet kiss across his lips, Alex reached out, gently flicking the tip of his nose, "You're cute when you're frustrated."

Riley teasingly glared, his long arms snaking around her waist, his fingers dancing along the exposed skin of her lower back, "Aw, shucks, honey bee. Thanks for the compliment. I'm glad you're finding humor in my obvious state of discomfort."

"Riles, I find humor in many facets of you. This situation just piques my fancy a bit more than usual…"

A sly smirk worked its way across Riley's face, and before Alex could ponder what the gesture could possibly mean, she found herself flat on her back against the seat cushions of the couch with Riley's smug visage hovering over her. Through the light brown tresses dangling in her eyesight, Riley maneuvered his body, pressing her down into the cushions.

"And this situation, my dear, proves a bit more fanciful to _me_."

Alex laughed, spreading her arms wide, her head thrown back in faux exasperation, "Fine, if you must. Take me now!"

Riley chuckled, leaning down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

- - -

Tristan wrinkled his nose, turning away in disgust at the movie Rory waved beneath his nose, "Aw, Gilmore, you have got to be kidding me!"

Rory persisted, scooting even closer to him, the DVD brandished in her grasp, "C'mon, Trissy! It's a classic! Besides, there's a nude scene so that should satisfy your masculinity."

"There's also a scene where a distraught woman kisses the frozen hand of an already-dead guy, swearing she'll never let go, all while watching his blue countenance float to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean!" Tristan retorted, "Face it, Rory, I refuse to watch _Titanic_!"

"What, Leonardo DiCaprio doesn't do it for you?"

"As a strikingly handsome being," Tristan rationalized, "I can fully appreciate another fine male specimen. I can't, however, tolerate horrible acting…"

"Leo is not a bad actor!" Rory protested.

"Right," Tristan scoffed, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice, "and Pamela Anderson's boobs won't pop if you stick them with a pin."

Rory pouted, crossing her arms as she wriggled back against the couch, "Fine! _You_ pick the movie."

Tristan smirked, "Since you insisted."

As she caught the title of his choice, Rory rolled her eyes, "Well, that's not surprising." Clutching his arm, she halted his movement, theatrically sniffing the air, "Do you smell that, Tris? I never noticed the overwhelming aroma of testosterone in here."

"Goes well with the stench of estrogen, doesn't it?" Tristan shot back, amused at her sarcasm as he made his way to the DVD player, sliding the disc into its slot. Plopping back on the couch, he turned his attention to Rory, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, I suppose I must sit through yet another viewing of _The Terminator_."

"Damn straight, Gilmore. Classic, I say. Absolutely classic."

Tristan settled back in his place as his choice of movie played out. Casting surreptitious glances Rory's way, his eyebrows drew together as he noticed her attention not on the screen, but to her hands as they twisted together in her lap. Sighing heavily, he groped for the remote, clicking the movie off, the concern on his face deepening as she failed to acknowledge the absence of a movie.

"Okay, Mopey. Although I do prefer the not-so constant asides that stem from your extensive knowledge of every film to grace the silver screen, and silence, in this case, _is_ absolutely golden, Mute Rory is right now worrying the crap out of me." Tristan hefted a labored sigh.

"Although our topic of conversation will provoke the urge to hurl…let's talk."

Rory glanced over at Tristan, the cerulean of his eyes shining with concern, "You honestly think I'd talk to you?"

"And what other option do you have?" Tristan pointed out, "Lorelai? Hard to do that when you two aren't speaking." Running a hand through his hair, Tristan clenched his jaw, idly scratching the skin beneath the silver cuff adorning his left wrist.

"It's not going to be easy for me, I get that. But my feelings for you outweigh my resentment to Logan. So if you really need to talk, let me have it."

Rory paused, shifting on the couch to face Tristan directly, "I…talked to him today. I heard Alex's side, and I wanted to ask him about…y'know." Tristan nodded his comprehension, allowing Rory to keep going. She curled up in the corner of the couch as though to protect herself from the onslaught of memories, the vulnerability shining prevalently on her delicate features.

"When he spoke to me..." Rory trailed off, shrugging helplessly, "I denno…it was like he was a whole different person. He was so cold, so unfeeling. He honestly didn't care what happened to Alex or about the fact that he had such a part in it. It was like…"

"She was just another whore he could pay off." Tristan finished softly."Yeah…" Rory agreed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Shaking her head, she allowed her gaze to drift off into the distance as though she was trying to sort something out.

"It was like I didn't know him, Tristan. I mean, sure, I've seen his not so desirable side in dealing with his many one-night stands, but this wasn't the Logan I've been dating. He just seemed so…"

"Ruthless?"

At Tristan's offering, Rory nodded emphatically, "Yeah. I mean, where's the true Logan? Is it the absolute jackass or the sweet, kind boyfriend I know?" Rory cradled her head in her hands, "I mean, it's almost like you…"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Rory knew she had made a mistake. At the comment, Tristan stiffened, the blaze in his eyes burning a white-hot fire in its intensity, and his voice deepened to a low growl.

"Don't ever compare me with that bastard." Tristan bit out through clenched teeth, "I will never do the things he does." Tristan stared directly into Rory's eyes.

"You know who the real Logan is? The jackass, Rory. You place him in a difficult situation and who he really is will shine right through. You know what happened. You heard it from me. You heard it from Alex, and you saw how he handled it." Tristan's deep stare flashed with unbridled ire.

"You think if you were in Alex's situation that he'd do something different? You really think if you walked up to him one day with the news that you're expecting a bouncing blonde baby Huntzberger that he wouldn't do the exact same thing?"

Rory bristled, glowering right back, "Don't you dare pull that, Tristan. You don't know what it's like. You don't know what happened between us."

"Oh, I don't, Rory?" Tristan challenged, the fury alive within the depths of his eyes, "Did he act like a jackass, discreetly complimenting you until you saw his 'other side?' Did he make a spectacle out of himself to make his presence known to you? Did he take you to an LDB meeting and challenge you to do something that you wouldn't normally do? Did he pursue you for a few weeks the all of a sudden disappear for two weeks only to come back begging for your attentions?" As Tristan spotted Rory's eyes flash with each statement, he shook his head.

"He did, didn't he? Well, I'm sure you've heard this term many times before: News flash, Gilmore! That's exactly what he did with Alex." Tristan scoffed bitterly.

"The guy may be completely unoriginal, but he must have enough charm to back it up. Both of you fell for it." Gazing at the girl across from him, Tristan shook his head.

"You really think you're different now? Knowing that you went through the exact same routine that every other one of his conquests did? Do you really think you could change him, Rory?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Rory countered, staring him straight in the eye, "You did."

"I _wanted_ to." Tristan shot back, "I wanted to show to you that the asswipe I was in high school could be changed if I found the inspiration. _You_ were my inspiration. _He_ isn't exactly falling over himself to mend his ways." His eyes drifted down to lock onto a pair of vivid blue spheres. Gone was the sheen he had adored so deeply, shining with the dual brilliance of curiosity and innocence. Rory Gilmore had lost her innocence a year ago, and that curiosity had dulled. Now, all that was left was a simple sullen awareness of the world. Tristan sighed.

"So what's your damage with his Hamburgerness? Are you broken up? Do you hate him with a passion?"

"We're…we're on a break."

Tristan allowed a derisive snort to fly from his nostrils, "Wow, Rory. I'm surprised you conceded your dignity with that one…"

"What is with you, Tristan?" Rory demanded, taken aback with his incensed indifference.

"What's with _me_? What's with _you_, Rory? What is so absolutely wonderful about Logan Huntzberger is coercing you to stay with him?" Tristan shot up from his position on the couch, the assault his frustrations had wracked on his body since the fateful night of his welcome back party finally gushing to the surface.

"You wouldn't have stood for this before, Rory. Did that incident with Mitchum Huntzberger really get to you that much?" Tristan threw his hands in the air, his head whipping skyward, "Christ, Rory, Mitchum Huntzberger wouldn't know talent if it danced in front of his face wearing a man thong!"

"Have you lost your confidence that much that you don't think you'll ever get another guy?" Tristan waved his hands in an emphatic address, "Rory, you had three guys tripping over themselves in high school to get close to you and the same thing is happening here. It may be a different venue, but it's the same goddamn situation!"

"Is it really that unfathomable that I care about him, Tristan? That maybe he actually means something to me?" Rory bore down on her taller friend, one finger poking into his chest.

Tristan squared up to the shorter brunette, his lofty frame hovering even taller with the passionate spark flickering in his eyes. The light cobalt spheres burned into hers, intensely searching for emotion behind the defiant façade.

"Yes."

Rory drew back in surprise, unable to speak with the word that flew out of his mouth. Sitting down hard on the couch, she stared up at him, confusion prevalent among the flurry of emotions dancing across her face.

"The Rory Gilmore I know would never have looked twice at someone like Logan Huntzberger knowing what he's done. Not when she was brought into this world the way she was. The Rory Gilmore I know would have never compromised her integrity for a guy, especially not someone like him."

Rory glanced down at her hands, "Well, then I'm not the Rory Gilmore you knew."

Tristan scoffed, "The hell you aren't. One year doesn't change a person that much."

Rory narrowed her eyes, "Wow, Tristan. I'd say that was quite a contradiction that just spewed from you mouth. So are you really the same jackass you were in high school?"

The smugly disgusted look on Tristan's face wavered slightly as the day that had brought them to such an awkward impasse connected solidly with his stomach, the words she had said to him spewing into his mind.

"_**Congrats, Tristan. You've finally accomplished your lifelong goal. You've finally nailed the Mary."**_

"Apparently so." He murmured, staring directly into the sapphire depths of her eyes. Rory's brows drew together at the shroud of pain glazing over his own eyes.

"That's what you said, isn't it? That day in Stars Hollow." He forced the bile from rising to his throat, the words floating from his mouth in barely a whisper, impacting her more than his screaming ever could.

"'Congrats, Tristan. You've finally accomplished your lifelong goal. You've finally nailed the Mary.'" Tristan recited as his steady gaze challenged her from his four-inch height advantage, "That's what you implied that day, Rory, when I had given you every reason to think otherwise. What reason has Huntzberger given you?"

Rory stayed silent, the repercussions of the words spoken in a moment of foolish vulnerability coming back to haunt her. Tristan watched her head drop, and he shook himself from the deprecation the words had on his psyche.

"I guess your trust in people tends a bit selective." Rory averted her eyes at the harsh tone of his voice. Turning his back on her, Tristan marched briskly towards the door.

"I gotta get outta here. Feel free to stay if you want. You know your way around here…"

Rory sank back even further on the couch as Tristan's broad back trudged out the entryway. The faint roar of his Porsche permeated her sense of hearing, and she hung her head, the weighty truth of his assertions encumbering her heart. She had felt something for him that night they had slept together, and that something scared her so much that she ran. Away from Tristan, away from Stars Hollow, and away from everything she knew. She had run straight into Logan Huntzberger's arms where he whisked her away to a different existence. One full of lavish parties, endless amounts of frivolous, spontaneous outings, and daring deeds of exhilaration and adrenaline. She had left her reality and ran straight to his. And now look where it left her. Rory's head lolled back against the back of the Dugrey couch. As per usual, Tristan Dugrey's reappearance into her life had turned her neat and orderly world inside-out and upside-down. Oh, hell…

- - -

Riley grinned as the delicate squeal of Alexandra Dugrey assaulted his ears, and she squirmed, fighting in vain to release herself from his hold. In response, Riley only tightened his grip, burrowing his face even deeper into the skin of her exposed midriff, blowing loudly against her bare skin. Tears of laughter rimmed Alex's eyes as the tickling sensation spread across her torso, and she tugged fruitlessly against the fabric of Riley's shirt.

"Uncle! Uncle! Have you no sense of mercy, Beaumont?"

At her teasing appeal, Riley relented, moving back to allow her to sit up. Her face red with the exertion of laughter, Alex shook her head, one hand drifting up to arrange the mussed strands of her hair into some semblance of order, the other jerking down the hem of her t-shirt where it had ridden up in the heat of their tryst. Frowning as the haphazard sweep of her hand only succeeded in disturbing her hair even more, Alex turned to her boyfriend, his face contorted into a smug grin.

"That was payback for leaving me hanging earlier." Riley stated, maneuvering her so that she was perched sideways on his lap.

Alex let out a laugh, one arm snaking around his neck while the other played with the silver medallion around his neck, "Riley, nothing was 'hanging' about you."

Riley quirked a grin. With every day that they were together, a bit of the old Alex began to emerge, and he felt he rather liked this development. Leaning in to lovingly nibble at the skin of her collarbone, Riley smirked.

"Ah, yes, well, I do have to agree with that sentiment. Maybe next time you can do something to relieve that ache?" Catching the halting look on Alex's face, he quickly amended his prior statement.

"Or we can take it slow and see how it goes?"

Alex relaxed, "For the sake of this moment, I'll disregard that comment."

Riley cradled her cheek in his palm, ghosting soft caresses across her cheek, "Hey. You know I'd never force you into something."

"I do." Alex admitted, a small smirk playing across her face, "But I, on the other hand, have ample methods of persuasion that can be unleashed on you."

"Well, if your end result is similar to this situation…" Riley spread his arms wide, welcoming her into his embrace, "Persuade away."

Wrapping her into the circle of his arms, Riley craned his head downward, his lips seeking purchase to hers. Alex sighed as she deepened the kiss, her hands snaking around his shoulders as his tangled in her hair. The pair allowed themselves to drift away, permitting their surroundings to swirl into an abyss of emotion, unaware of anything around them. Neither noticed the Porsche screeching into the driveway until its owner stormed in through the front door.

"What the hell?"

Forcibly yanked back into reality, the pair jerked up from their passionate embrace to stare into Tristan's blue eyes currently sparking with rage at the compromising position he had found his best friend and baby sister in. Riley scrambled up from the couch, almost upending Alex in his haste to stand. Moving over to the back, he nervously straightened out the fabric of his maroon t-shirt, smoothing over the wrinkles left from Alex's incessant grip. Forcing out what he hoped to be a winning smile, Riley shifted anxiously on the balls of his feet.

"Hey, TJ."

Tristan didn't answer, only allowing his eyes to flick over to his younger sibling as she threw up her hair into a messy bun. Returning his glare to his friend, Tristan's eyes narrowed furiously. Riley held out his palms before him, hoping to stave off the waves of anger radiating from the tall blonde in front of him.

"Look, I know this looks really bad, but we were going to tell you and this hasn't been going on for awhile…"

Riley trailed off, glancing helplessly as his best friend advanced, one hand clenched in ire. As Tristan's fist flew its path toward his face, Riley felt a single feeble thought dash through his mind before he crashed to the ground: _Oh shit._ Tristan hovered for a moment, glaring down at his best friend. Not a word escaped from the lips set in a hard line. Turning on his heel, Tristan stalked back out the entryway, the resounding bang of the door following his footsteps. From his place on the ground, Riley groaned, his tongue poking out to run over his bottom lip, wincing at the coppery tang of his blood. Allowing his head to fall back, Riley met Alex's eyes as she kneeled down beside him.

"Stupid question of the day, but are you okay?"

Riley sighed, touching his thumb to the split surely adorning his lip, unamused when he found the digit reddened with blood. Cocking his head to stare at the blonde beside him, Riley ran a hand through his hair

"I'll tell you one thing: that wasn't the scenario I would have preferred…" Laying back, a groan rippling through his throat, Riley buried his arms over his head. The fear he had long dreaded began to worm its way into his psyche, and he didn't like it one bit.

- - -

Tristan growled as he flexed his right hand, the redness already beginning to spread across the knuckles that had smacked into Riley's face. Running that same hand through his hair, he gunned the engine, racing across the deserted highway, heading south away from Hartford and certainly away from all the problems encompassed in its depths.

To say everything was in an upheaval would be a serious misconstrued theory in his mind. It seemed worse. His relationship with Rory felt rockier than the pavement beneath the wheels of his car, and it was that essential problem Logan Huntzberger presented that proved to be the underlying cause. Still, it was so easy for them to slip back into the connection they felt in the earlier year of their friendship; the bond they had forged was welded too tightly to shatter, and Tristan found himself clinging to that same bond as well as the hope that things could revert to the simplicity they once were. But as that thought snaked through his mind, Tristan quickly dismissed such a notion. Things would never revert to the way they once were. The blatant truth knocked Tristan over the head. One year prior, he and Rory had slept together, revealing emotions and affections buried beneath a surface of affectionate companionship. Clichéd as it may be, he had given her a part of him that day; it was the part that only a select few had seen, otherwise hidden beneath his façade of the playboy son of a multi-billionaire. Not to mention the gift she had given him. It started with her friendship, perhaps the most meaningful relationship with the opposite sex that he possessed, save the one with his sister. Then she had given him her undivided trust, looking past their history to start anew. Lastly, she had given him her virginity, consummating the relationship he had labored so hard to achieve. Tristan anxiously fiddled with the cuff around his wrist, wondering where it all had gone wrong. He and Rory were not speaking, and she was dating Logan Huntzberger.

As the name rang heavily in his mind, Tristan's thoughts drifted to his best friend and his baby sister. He had always harbored suspicion that their relationship, closer than he would have ever predicted, extended into a territory beyond a brother-sister deal. Riley had a unique perceptiveness about the human psyche an innate ability to understand people and their problems, evident in his portrayal of characters in his novel, so it was unsurprising that Alex would connect with him; truth be told, everyone did. Riley was irresistible like that, and he had never hurt any one of the two official girlfriends – not counting Paris – that he had. So why had Tristan clocked his best friend? Well, he really didn't have an answer for that particular quandary in his mind. He knew that Riley would never hurt Alex, nor would he turn out to be another Logan Huntzberger. However, Tristan reasoned with himself that there was always that residual fear lurking in the abyss of his mind that Alex would go through the horror that was a year ago, and long ago, he had vowed to himself to never allow anything to happen to her. Not while he was alive. Tristan thought of his younger sister, and he thought of his best friend, but the thought of them together – in more ways than one – that…he couldn't quite wrap his mind around, and he wasn't so sure that the "together" part wasn't exactly sitting will with his stomach.

Tristan's head jerked up as he yanked the wheel to the left, narrowly missing the sign that welcomed him to the town he had unconsciously wandered into. Halting slightly at the cross-section of the small road that meandered into the center of town, Tristan sighed, flopping his head down onto the steering wheel and cursing the fates that had steered him to the last place he thought he would ever be. As another sigh wracked his body, Tristan shook his head, mumbling to himself as he eased the car into the small and very recognizable town.

"Welcome to Stars Hollow, indeed. Damn, someone up there sure hates me…"

- - -

"Hold still! Damn, for a guy who suffered through five years of military school, you sure are some kind of baby when it comes to medical attention."

Riley wriggled out of the way of Alex's nomadic hand as she extended the cotton ball soaked with antiseptic for the split in his lip. Shying away from the tiny piece of cotton as though it contained a virus, Riley scooted back on the couch.

"You see, that's why I try to stay out of trouble. Punches I can take, but it's the mending part that I can't handle."

Alex rolled her eyes, trying to touch the cotton ball to his lip through the hands trying to bat away her progress, "Riley Daniel Beaumont, would you stop moving?" Huffing as his head craned backward, she leaned forward, attempting the relatively simple task one more time.

"Geez, Riley. For a guy who claimed to have taken a punch from two-twenty-pound guy, I find it astonishing you can't take a bit of antiseptic."

Riley stuck his tongue out at the blonde across from him, dodging her hand again, "Hey, come on now! Punches only sting and you can shake them off. That stuff stings _and_ burns, and froths!"

Alex rolled her eyes again. With an exasperated sigh, she pushed him back into the couch, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap, her long legs pinning his hands to his sides. Reaching over to grab the cotton balls and alcohol, Alex gently dabbed at the split on his lip. Riley's eyes squinched shut as the stinging sensation began to spread, and Alex laughed down at the agonized face he was pulling.

"God, you're such a baby." Leaning in to gently blow on the cut, she traced the outline of his face, brushing away the haphazard strands that wandered onto his forehead, "Better?"

"Yeah." Riley cocked an eyebrow, an impish look gracing his face, "I definitely would have preferred you kissing it to make it better, though…"

Alex laughed, leaning it to press a kiss to his neck, "Sorry. The taste of alcohol doesn't really sound too enticing."

Wriggling to free his hands, Riley sighed as he took the proffered compact mirror, and tilting his head, he glanced at the red slit adorning the corner of his bottom lip, "You know, I envisioned the day when we told TJ we were together." Riley grimaced as he felt over the cut, "And the scenario I envisioned was something more akin to a fist pump and a manly chest bash…"

Alex lofted an eyebrow, her hands reaching out to entangle with his, "You really think that would have been the case? Knowing my brother, and knowing his protective temperament when it comes to all women in his life?"

Riley chuckled, shaking his head, "Hey, sometimes I don't quite live on this Earth. Hence my profession as a writer." Catching Alex's reproving look, he grinned sheepishly, "Okay, yeah, I did anticipate he would overreact, and really, this rejoinder wasn't totally unexpected." Riley grimaced at the sharp pain in his lip.

"I just wish he hadn't hit me on the lip…Stomach, maybe, I can take those, but lip's always been a bloody area."

Alex stared into the pale gray spheres of his eyes, "So are you okay with this? You know, being with me knowing about how he hates it."

Riley nodded firmly, meeting her gaze directly, "TJ doesn't hate it. He was taken by surprise. Don't worry. He'll be fine with it."

Alex cocked an eyebrow, amused at his confidence, "And how do you figure that?"

Riley grinned indulgently, "Because I know Tristan Janlan Dugrey and I know you, Alexandra Elizabeth Dugrey, and I know that the two of you will neither stand in the way of the other's happiness, nor will you deny yourselves of that happiness. Just give him time." Riley leaned up to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

"So, still up for that chance for us?"

Alex giggled, mock sighing in exasperation, "I suppose so." Grinning as she grabbed Riley's face, their lips meeting in a torrid kiss, she grumbled against his mouth.

"Screw my dope of a brother. I have so much blackmail against him, he won't dare to do anything he knows would warrant some of those things revealed."

- - -

Tristan wandered into the town square, his head swiveling around as he took in the sights of the small town he hadn't set foot in since last summer. A wistful smile crossed his features, and he shook his head, unsure of when he had realized this place was his favorite place in the world. Stopping at the gazebo, he paused for a second, surveying the quaint settings that he had come to know so well in his friendship with Rory. Rotating to his left, he grinned as the plump figure of Ms. Patty waved at him from her studio, and Tristan braced himself for the onslaught of questions that were sure to come.

"Tristan! Oh, how nice it is to see you again. We all thought you would never come back."

Tristan chuckled, pressing a kiss to the proffered hand, "Well, Ms. Patty, you know I can't stay away from here for long."

Ms. Patty giggled, "So how's Stanford, Tristan? We were all so excited to hear that you got in. Although, we did hope you would relocate somewhere a bit closer to here and Rory." Ms. Patty's face took on a suggestive look at the tail-end of her sentence.

"And how is our girl?"

Tristan shuffled uncomfortably on the gazebo steps, "Uh, you know, I haven't seen her around since I got back. We're yet to, um, cross paths…" Inwardly grimacing at the blatant lie, Tristan put on a hopefully convincing expression of remorse.

"I'm hoping it's soon."

Ms. Patty patted his hand sympathetically, "Yes, we all do. You two make such a beautiful couple."

Tristan coughed, glancing away, "Uh, thanks, Ms. Patty."

"So what brings you back to Stars Hollow?"

Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets. At the moment, he doubted telling Ms. Patty about the drama that currently invaded his otherwise normal life was a good idea, so Tristan went with the next best solution: he bullshitted.

"Uh, I was actually hoping to talk to Lorelai. You know, catch up on things…"

Ms. Patty nodded her understanding, "Yes, you were always so close with the girls." Thinking for a moment, Ms. Patty placed one manicured hand to her lips.

"You know, I'm not sure where Lorelai is. My bet is she's either at home or at Luke's. It's been a hot spot for her lately."

Tristan's brow furrowed in confusion, "When would the diner not be? She practically lives there."

Ms. Patty waved away Tristan's ignorance, "Of course, dear. But you haven't heard the news. Luke and Lorelai are engaged."

"Engaged?" One blonde eyebrow shot skyward, "When?"

"Just this May." Patty revealed, "She did the proposing."

A grin curved Tristan's face, "And who won the pool?"

Ms. Patty's nose wrinkled in distaste, "That swine Kirk. I was three weeks off, and Taylor was one day. He demanded an appeal and argued that we should count the day we all found out instead of the actual proposal."

Tristan's shoulders shook with laughter at the antics of the small town. Turning back towards the Gilmore house, he kissed Patty's hand in farewell, "Well, I must see a Lorelai about a Lorelai…Bye, Patty."

"Bye, sugar."

Tristan winced as Patty's wandering hand came in contact with his behind as he turned to depart, and he continued walking, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Those I certainly didn't miss." He muttered, musing to himself as he rubbed the abused body part. Tristan strolled down the main street until he stopped before the familiar house, and he hesitated, unsure of both the reception he would receive and his initial reason for the impromptu visit to Stars Hollow. Reaching deep down into the recesses of his psyche to gather up all his courage, Tristan stuck a finger out, pressing the doorbell situated at the side. He listened as the muffled clatter, shuffling, and occasional expletive knifed through the air, signaling the perpetually epic journey of Lorelai's jaunt to the door through whatever clutter was situated around the Gilmore house.

Tristan stepped back as the door eased open, and he cocked an amused eyebrow as he was greeted not by the attractive visage of one Lorelai Gilmore but by an ungainly heap of cardboard boxes. The lofty spectacle paused from its jaunt out the front door, and Lorelai's stifled voice perked up from behind the boxes.

"Uh, whoever you are, do you mind lending me a hand? As much as I thoroughly enjoy the vision of brown cardboard, I do admit it rather hinders a forward progression that is kind of essential in this whole process of walking…"

Tristan chuckled, reaching up to effortlessly pluck the top box from her grip, "Wow, Lorelai, I expected a more persuasive selling point coming from you."

A heady silence hung in the air before Lorelai spoke again, "Wait a minute. I know that voice. It has mocked many a Gilmore practice as well as been smote for blasphemous towards coffee…" Poking her head around the highest box, Lorelai squealed, dropping her cargo with a resounding thump. Halting as a tell-tale crash of something or other breaking permeated the air, Lorelai grimaced, wringing her hands as she stopped short of stomping her foot.

"Ah, shoot!"

Tristan grinned as the elder Lorelai waved away the situation, mumbling under her breath, "Michel won't notice if I slip it in at the last moment." Returning her attention to the tall college student before her, Lorelai held out her arms, a wide smile gracing her face. Tristan willingly stepped into the welcoming embrace, laughing as Lorelai squeezed him hard.

Stepping back, she gazed at him, her piercing blue eyes sweeping up and down his body. Nodding in approval, Lorelai grinned, "Well, Satan, I must say the time out of hell has definitely done you wonders to your complexion. You look good."

Tristan shrugged sheepishly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, "I try."

Lorelai stooped down to retrieve the boxes left at her feet in her haste to get to the man at her heels, "So what brings you down to the boondocks capital of the world?"

Tristan hesitated for a moment, helping her carry the boxes to the Jeep in the driveway. Lorelai caught the silence, her brow furrowing in concern. Her only response was a tightening of his mouth before he sighed, setting the box in the trunk.

"To be honest, Lorelai, I don't know."

Lorelai cocked an eyebrow, "You're saying an intangible force grabbed you by the lapels and forcibly dragged you to rest outside of the town's boundaries?"

"More like a gas-powered force aided by my foot on the accelerator and guided by my hand on the steering wheel." Tristan admitted.

Lorelai appraised the young man standing in her line of vision, his posture slightly slumped with an ethereal burden, "And what's behind this impromptu visit?"

Tristan shrugged, his eyes diverting to the ground in an attempt to conceal his evasion of the question. As he spoke, his voice betrayed no emotion, a second shrug lifting his shoulders in a non-committal gesture. "Stuff happened today. I guess I got kinda riled up with all of it, so I drove to get away, and I ended up here."

"And now you with me, helping me load boxes into the car…" Lorelai finished, turning to face Tristan. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tristan glanced sideways at Lorelai Gilmore. Her brilliant blue eyes gazed up at him, concern sketched onto her attractive features. He stared back, his eyes seeing not her, but a younger version of the woman before him, the image presented in his mind of a different Lorelai, her luminous sapphire spheres twinkling with an inquisitive quality and an innocence the elder Gilmore had lost a long time ago. That Lorelai had hurt him so deeply, so profoundly that he had reverted to an emotion not prevalent in the repertoire he possessed: hate. He had hated her with such a passion, disgruntled at her blatant disregard of his feelings and intentions. Hadn't the years they spent together prove to be evidence enough that his objectives were nothing but honorable? Hadn't he solidified himself in every single one of his interactions with her? Tristan was at a loss, his mind, his heart, and his emotions torn in opposing directions. He had clung onto that hate for the duration of the year, but one glance into her electrifying eyes, and that hate had melted away faster than he could even begin to comprehend. For a reason he was yet to completely grasp, he found himself still drawn to Rory Gilmore, and now, he found himself standing before her mother, a woman he hadn't spoken to in over a year, asking for her help in healing her injured daughter. That was the kicker. No matter how grievous their past actions had been, Tristan still cared. Truly and deeply cared. Enough to help her regain her confidence, enough to swallow his pride and accept their situation, enough to begin to mend their shattered friendship. Even with everything that had transpired, there was still that residual disposition of Tristan's overprotective nature. Although the end of Rory Gilmore's innocence was a year old, he still wished to shield her away from the monstrosity that was Logan Huntzberger, and here he was, standing before Lorelai Gilmore, appealing for her assistance. Tristan shook himself from his reverie, raising his own sapphire gaze to lock onto hers.

"Yeah. Let's talk."

- - -

Rory sat for a moment, her mind laboring to wrap itself around the events that had just transpired, resulting in Tristan screeching out of Janlan Dugrey's summer home in a squeal of tires. Mentally, she kicked herself, realizing her grievous mistake. The worst possible thing she could do to Tristan was compare him to Logan, and yet, she still did. Even though the two were polar opposites, even with her knowledge that Tristan would never regress to the level of cowardice Logan exhibited. With every moment that passed, Rory could feel the anger and resentment she felt towards her boyfriend's actions build, the pressure mounting with every thought and argument Tristan spewed in rebuttal of her resolute defense of the boy she claimed to have affections for. The doubt Tristan had planted in her head began to bloom. If she was placed in the same situation, _would_ Logan act differently? Would he handle it the same way he did with Alex? He claimed to love her, to care for her deeply, but Alex had stated he claimed the same thing to her, and yet there the younger Dugrey was, pregnant and alone. Considering the attitude the Huntzbergers displayed towards her, Rory's doubt heightened.

Gathering the DVDs and junk food, Rory let herself out the side door, making her way to her car. Shoving her bags in the back, she started the car, easing out of Janlan's driveway. As she drove along the streets of Hartford, Rory's thoughts whirled through her head, the many words Logan had whispered to her echoing in her mind. He had whispered promises of a future, promises of love, promises of dreams fulfilled, but he had done nothing with those promises. Sure, as a result of an argument at dinner with his parents, she had received that internship, but looking at their time spent together, Rory began to mull over what they had done.

In short, nothing really. She had gone through her classes, done all her homework, but she had also spent nights of debauchery with Logan, Colin, and Finn. Their escapades resulted in nights staggering drunkenly through the streets of New Haven, jumping off of scaffolds, and stealing yachts. She had gotten arrested. In this time of estrangement from her mother, all she had done was drink and party, numbing herself with the crushing aftermath of not being cut out for the newspaper world. With her preceding failure with Mitchum Huntzberger, she prolonged her decision about Yale, pushing away her dilemma concerning her future in college, unable to face the prospect of imminent failure. She had run away from it all, run away from every single person who cared, and now, with her grandparents, she found herself settling into a socialite lifestyle: DAR meetings, country club visits, cocktail parties, and schmoozing with the fellow bluebloods of her mother's past. Gone was the unconditional love, gone was the feeling of home and affection. Rory caught a glimpse of the cold, unfeeling world that had brought up her boyfriend and dearest friend and was now beginning to realize it. She caught a glimpse of what would happen if she married Logan, what his parents would force her into becoming, and that thought scared her.

Stopping at a familiar street, Rory made her decision in a split second, yanking the wheel to cruise into a sprawling estate, smiling at the guard who recognized her with a fond familiarity. Approaching the front door, she rang the doorbell, waiting as the haunting melody alerted the occupants of her presence. As the door swung open, Rory stared in surprise at the figure behind the door, unsure of his reason for being at that certain vicinity but relieved at the lack of searching she had to undergo to find him. Tilting her head back to meet his eyes, she shuffled nervously on the front step.

"We need to talk. Can you come out with me for a second?"

The wide eyes widened slightly in suspicion, a slight fear flashing though the soft orbs. Nodding shortly, he disappeared behind the door for a moment before reappearing, following her to the car. As the car cruised down the streets of Hartford, heading for the downtown area, Rory braced herself for the difficult conversation that was sure to come.

_And there we go. Coming up is Tristan's conversation with Lorelai as well as Rory's conversation with the man behind the door. Who is he? It may or not be Logan, but I can promise you that Logan will be in the next chapter. Plus, refer back to chapter eight and note Luke's reaction to the fact that Rory slept with Tristan. Now what will happen when the two meet again face to face? That will come next as well as an event that will appease many frustrated readers. What that even will be…? Read the next chapter to find out. _

_Oh! And Riley WILL MOST CERTAINLY NOT be cheating on Alex. Read that once more and note the capital letters. I'm pretty sure I've established the fact that Riley is an upstanding guy who is nothing like everyone else, and this thing with Alex is not going to be temporary. I'm not saying there won't be bumps because we all know that relationships are far from always roses and pretty things, but "Cheating Riley" will not be a factor. Stay tuned, the reconciliation will be coming soon, and the next curveball is on its way to the plate. Details, scamps, details. Just something to mull over till next time…_

_Roxy_


	12. My One Last Shot at Redemption

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything you recognize. The poems used in this chapter are "Carpe Diem" by Robert Frost and "Independence" by Henry David Thoreau as well as a few borrowed lines from 6.08 Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out._

_Okay, have we all had our fill of drama for the day? Well, it's not done yet. This is the chapter where revelations are beginning to arise, and we will see one of the final appearences of Logan. I can promise that after this chapter, Rory and Tristan will begin to move forward with their relationship, and that forward progression has a lot to do with the beginning of what happens at the end of this chapter. So, without further ado, here is the chapter you all have been waiting for…_

_Onward!_

**Chapter 12**

_My One Last Shot at Redemption_

Tristan meandered down the street, his hands clenched into fists in the pockets of the worn leather jacket hanging across his shoulders. His posture remained relaxed, unhurried, but inwardly, his mind was in a state of chaos. Idly, he walked along, one foot in front of the other, strolling in a state of languid nonchalance, a stark contrast with the flurry of emotions beating against his brain. The elder woman beside him kept in pace with his strides, casting the occasional glance in his direction, noting his perceptible silence. As Tristan exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, Lorelai shifted to appraise the young man beside her.

"Alright, kiddo, what's on your mind?"

Tristan shook his head, settling down on a bench situated on the side of the street. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, Tristan leaned back, twisting the silver cuff around his left wrist, "Since when did life get so complicated?"

Lorelai chuckled, shaking her head as she joined him on the bench, "You're asking the reigning empress of complications? Wow, you really must be desperate. Just how messed up is your life anyway?"

Tristan huffed out a snort, "Well, let's recap: I come back after not seeing Rory for a good year, intent on not speaking to her. I find out that she's the dating the guy that my baby sister fell head-over-heels, out-of-her-mind in love with, only to have him cheat on her, dump her, leave her pregnant, try to pay her off to avoid a scandal, and break the very spirit that is uniquely her. In my utter rage and incensed that he has the nerve to set foot inside of my house – during a welcome back party for me, nonetheless – I lose it and end up handing his ass to him in front of a good couple hundred socialites. Rory witnesses the whole spectacle and confronts me, understandably confused, and somehow tricks me into talking, breaking my resolve with one look with those damn eyes of hers. We partially mend fences, but this puts some tension between because I can't stand her boyfriend for what he's done to my sister, but I also can't find it in myself to stay away. Later, we get into a big fight because of her reluctance to see Logan for what he really is: a pathetic jackass, I storm out and walk in on Beau and my baby sister going at it on the couch, a situation that apparently has been going on for a while, and consequently, I punch him." Tristan's eyes flicked to the elder woman beside him, her eyes wide as she attempted to process the sudden barrage of information.

"Uh…kay…." Lorelai shook her head at the rapid delivery that rivaled the speed at which she and Rory exchanged conversation, "Yeah...that really sucks."

A derisive chuckle flew from Tristan's lungs, "Wow, Lorelai, that vote of confidence just elevated my ego to unprecedented proportions. I'm surprised the bench isn't tipping with the sudden shift in weight."

Lorelai laughed, "So what's the problem?" At Tristan's raised eyebrow, she smiled, "Or, rather, which one would you like to address first?"

Tristan sat in silence for a moment, mulling over the turmoil in his head, "How did this happen, Lorelai?"

The elder Gilmore's brow furrowed in confusion, "Uh, considering the time span at which you're alluding to is painfully vague and uncertain, you might wanna narrow it down to something a bit easier to handle."

"This." Tristan clarified, gesturing to himself and her, noting the fact that a certain other Gilmore was absent, "You and me here with no Rory in sight. What happened that provoked her to flee to the Gilmores?"

Lorelai sighed heavily, twisting the engagement ring around her finger, "Sometimes, I don't know, Tristan. I guess it all started when Mitchum Huntzberger told Rory that 'she didn't have it' for the journalism world after her internship at one of his papers. She went on this downward spiral, and Logan did nothing to stop her. I think he was more of a co-conspirator." Lorelai's face contorted with anger.

"She got arrested, for God's sake! Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, arrested! For stealing a yacht! She has a mug shot; her fingertips had black on them from being fingerprinted! She dropped out of Yale. I never thought I'd see the day."

Tristan shifted on the bench, "Neither did I…"

"I don't know what happened to her, Tristan. It's like she's lost all confidence in her abilities, in herself."

"Yeah, well Mitchum Huntzberger's awareness of feelings other than his own isn't exactly a quality to be desired." Tristan snorted. He straightened, his jaw set with resolution, "I hate seeing her like this, Lorelai. It's like that one bad experience has destroyed every ounce of her faith."

Lorelai rotated, meeting the young man's pale blue eyes directly, "You hate seeing her like this or you hate seeing her with Logan?"

Tristan ran a hand through his tousled hair, "Both. For so long, it used to be me and her with no guy getting in between us. But it just seems like she's so blind to Logan Huntzberger. He suave, he's charming, he's smooth…Dammit, Lorelai, he's me minus the whole reformed deal and the fact that he's a complete and utter asswipe. Of course Rory is going to fall for him. He is what I used to be, and she chose him. Consciously chose him. I used to have to labor so hard to earn her attentions, but she would always shoot me down. But now she's dating him. Makes me wonder if it was all worth it…"

Lorelai reached out, forcing Tristan to face her, "It _was_ worth it, Tristan. You know Rory feels strongly about you. What you two share goes so much deeper than whatever's between her and Logan. Their kind of relationship will fade, but the bond between you two will never. You just have to show her you still care, that you're still here."

"I thought I did." Tristan claimed, a bitterness rising in his throat, "That night that you caught us, I gave her everything. She acted like she was another one of my conquests. She disregarded it like it meant nothing." Tristan lifted sullen eyes.

"It meant everything."

Lorelai sighed, the pieces of the puzzle finally settling into place, "Tristan, she was scared. That's all. I mean, you know the standby Gilmore reaction to whatever scares us…"

Tristan forced out a chuckle, "Yeah, you guys turn tail and run…" Ruefully, he shook his head, "I can't find it in myself to hate her, Lorelai. I mean, yeah, I'm still really annoyed and really angry. But as much as I want to resent her for everything that's happened between us, I can't. If anything, I want to help her even more. I want to build her confidence back up. I want to show her I still care. That I've always cared."

"She knows you've always cared, Tristan. Maybe you should start showing it. You can't expect her to just get it. You know how dense she can be at times. You just might be the only one who can bring her out of this funk." Lorelai cocked her head, "You know, it sounds like you've been standing idly by, watching all of this happen, and you know Rory isn't always Ms. Perceptive. You might wanna think about actually doing something."

Tristan's brow furrowed as he thought over Lorelai's words, their progress bringing them closer to their destination, and the pair halted as Luke's Diner came into their line of vision, and catching her fiancé behind the counter, Lorelai reached out a hand, impeding Tristan's progress. An apologetic glint to her features that instantly put Tristan on the defensive, Lorelai allowed a small smile to flicker across her face.

"Uh, yeah, just to let you know, Lukie may not be all that pleased seeing you."

Tristan's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "And why not, pray tell?"

Lorelai winced, "ImighthaveaccidentallyletitslipthatyouandRoryslepttogether." The words tumbled from her mouth with the hope that Tristan didn't catch the rushed sentence. Glimpsing the amused glint to Tristan's features, Lorelai sighed. No such luck.

Tristan rolled his eyes, "Lorelai, when is something that 'slips out' of your mouth _not_ accidental."

Lorelai frowned, "I'll have you know, Bible Boy, there have been tons of times where that's the case."

At Tristan's reproving glance, complete with raised eyebrow, Lorelai narrowed her eyes, "Really!"

Tristan smirked, "Name one." At Lorelai's silence, Tristan's smirk widened, "There isn't one, is there?"

The elder Gilmore waved her hands wildly, her face scrunched up in concentration, "Ah, ah! Annoying asides disrupt the thinking process!" After a pause, her expression brightened as she hopped on the bench excitedly, "Ooh! I got one! One time, I really, really wanted to make Luke blush for cutting off my coffee supply – bad idea if I ever heard one – and the only real way is to somehow allude to sex, so I 'accidentally' let it slip about this one time that I dressed up like a –"

Tristan cut her off, slapping his hands over his ears, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_! Halt right there before young man is scarred for remainder of his existence!"

Lorelai grinned, "Anyway, that wasn't on accident."

Tristan grunted, "_That_ won't prove to be detrimental to your health." Fidgeting slightly outside of the diner door, Tristan cast his companion an anxious glance, "Luke doesn't own any shotguns does he?"

Lorelai shook her head, "No, but I wouldn't put it past him. You might wanna stay away from the counter, though, he does have knives."

Tristan chuckled weakly, "Great. I can see the headline now," Tristan halted, dramatically framing the imaginary headline, "'Enraged Future Step-Father and Local Diner Man Slices and Dices Unsuspecting Boy for Deflowering Surrogate Daughter.'" Returning his gaze towards Lorelai, Tristan sighed, "In case that is the scenario, leave all my stuff to Beau. He's the only one that could actually put all of it to use."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, "Ladies and gentleman, watch as the melodrama hits the pinnacle of teenage angst."

"And that's coming from you?" Tristan nodded at Luke behind the counter, the diner owner's surly face looming even larger over the close quarters of his establishment. His dark eyes narrowed at the sight of the pair just outside the door, and his gruff, stubble-laced countenance contorted into a deep glower. Tristan hitched a thumb in the Luke's direction, "Lorelai, I think that in and of itself warrants a bit of melodrama."

The elder woman waved his statement off with a dismissive hand, "Lukie's not gonna do anything. He likes you."

Tristan snorted, "They all do until the daughter gets the proverbial cherry popped…"

"Trust me kiddo, he likes you. He has always liked you. Look at the facts. He hated Dean, you hated Dean. He put Dean in a headlock, you've beat the crap out of Dean twice. He despises Logan, you despise Logan. He wanted to press a shotgun to Logan's balls after finding him undressing Rory in a vacant room. You have a tendency to introducing Logan to your fist." Lorelai rotated to the tall blonde beside her, her hands stretched palm up, mimicking scales.

"Face it, babe, you're a testosterone-induced male dream."

"Yeah, yeah, and if I get my head kicked in today you're so not getting that deluxe espresso machine or my cappuccino maker you've had your eye on ever since I bought it." Tristan grumbled beneath his breath, "Geez, I've faced down drill instructors with muscles the size of bloated softballs, and Luke scares the shit outta me more than they ever could."

"It's the flannel, hon. Does that to everyone."

Tristan tensed as he entered the diner, settling into a counter seat besides Lorelai. Luke's piercing dark eyes strayed over in his direction, steadily burning their silent path to his figure. Tristan resisted the urge to gulp, busying himself with the menu, even though he knew every single dish Luke had to offer. His posture stiffened even more as the diner owner made his way towards them, craning his neck downward to kiss Lorelai hello.

"What can I get you guys?"

"Usual." Lorelai answered, propping her elbow on the counter, regarding her fiancé expectantly, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. Rolling his eyes, Luke plunked a mug full of coffee before her. Turning to Tristan, he fixed him with a hard glare.

"And you?"

"I'll…" Tristan cleared his throat as the word came out in a squeak, and he ignored the snort of laughter coming from Lorelai, "I'll have my usual, too."

Luke nodded shortly, turning his attention back to the other occupants of the diner. As his back disappeared, Lorelai turned to her younger companion.

"Yeah, real smooth, Casanova. You really had me convinced that you weren't terrified of him."

Tristan frowned, staring down at his mug of coffee, "Hey, Luke is scary. Plus he's got that whole Papa Bear complex concerning Rory. I want him to stay in his mindset that I'm not a bad guy, _not_ resisting the urge to castrate me…"

Lorelai laughed, "So what else is bothering you?"

Tristan sighed, his eyes drifting down to the cuff around his wrist, "So after that argument with Rory, I drive to my parents' home. Imagine my surprise when I walk in and my baby sister and my best friend are practicing CPR on the couch. Only problem is, the unconscious one isn't supposed to be sticking his tongue in his rescuer's mouth. Personally, it kinda hinders the whole process."

Lorelai cocked an eyebrow at Tristan's downtrodden posture, "Uh, Tristan, shouldn't you be happy that this is happening?"

Tristan anxiously rubbed his face with his hand, "That's the thing. I _should_, but I'm not." Allowing his head to flop down onto crossed arms, his muffled voice drifted up from beneath his buried head.

"Alex has been through so much this past year. I don't think she's ready to pursue a relationship just yet."

Lorelai sighed, laying a comforting hand on the distraught man's arm, "Tristan, are you sure it's not _you_ that isn't ready?"

Tristan snorted delicately, "What's the difference? What if she gets her heart trounced on again? What if this time is the time that breaks her fully? I don't want that to happen."

Lorelai smiled, gently turning Tristan to face her, "Tristan, don't you think you should have a bit more faith in both Alex and Riley? Do you honestly think he would consciously do something to hurt her?"

Tristan's gaze drifted back down to the deep recesses of the coffee beneath his nose, studying the black abyss as though the liquid held the answers. Slowly, he shook his head, a sigh heaving from his chest, "No, I guess not."

"It's okay to be afraid," Lorelai soothed, patting Tristan's back, "But you also gotta have faith, kiddo. You know Riley and you know Alex. Trust them."

Tristan chuckled, his head shifting back and forth, a bemused chuckle rumbling in his throat, "I do. I really do. Riley's been my best friend for over four years, and he was there when I couldn't be. I shouldn't be feeling this way. But I do…"

Tristan leaned back, his eyes wafting skyward, "I've always had my suspicions when it came to those two. They always seemed to have something there between them, but I could never pinpoint exactly what it was. To be honest, I should have seen it coming. I kinda expected it would. But now that it's here…"

"You don't know what to make of it…" Lorelai finished, nodding her head in comprehension. A bemused chuckle of her own wafting its way to Tristan's ears, Lorelai smiled, "Hon, you have no idea how close to home this is hitting for me." At Tristan's questioning glance, Lorelai shook her head.

"That is exactly how this whole town felt about you and Rory."

Tristan snorted, "Did anyone have the heart to tell them how off they were?"

Lorelai's eyes took on a sly sheen as she raised the mug of coffee to her lips, "You'd be surprised. I wouldn't bet on that…"

Tristan's brow creased as he stared at the elder Lorelai sipping her coffee, refusing to meet his eye with a small smile gracing her face. Before he could question her previous statement, Tristan jumped as a plate of foot plunked down on the counter, and he followed the burly, flannel-clad arm to the scowling face of Luke Danes. Swallowing hard, Tristan managed a weak smile.

"Th-thanks, Luke."

Rory's surrogate father glared down at the younger man, an unreadable expression peeking through the stubbled cheeks, and Tristan fidgeted slightly under the scrutinizing stare. Mentally, he berated himself. At Amherst, he was able to hold Sergeant Hessler's steady glare without so much as an eyelash twitch, but under Luke's unrelenting gaze, Tristan found himself even more unnerved. After a lengthy pause, Luke sighed, his mouth twitching in submission, and he shook his head, his voice gruff and slightly diffident.

"Look, I don't like the fact that you…y'know…with Rory, but all things considered, you're an okay guy, and you treat her well. Surprisingly, I like you. Plus I hate that blonde dick she's with even more. And more importantly, she likes you. More than you know."

Tristan sighed, picking at his fries, moving the food around his plate, "Not so much right now. She doesn't even realize how much I care."

Luke grunted, bracing his arms on the counter as he leaned in conspiratorially, flicking his gaze in Lorelai's direction before returning his stare to look directly into Tristan's eyes, "Since when do Gilmores see what's in front of them?"

Tristan's eyebrows quirked upward, the full impact of Luke's words striking him solidly in the chest, "Touché."

- - -

Riley Beaumont was confused. Yeah, that was as accurate as he could get. Craning his head, he glanced sideways at the leggy brunette behind the wheel of a small Toyota Prius, her brilliant blue eyes fixated determinedly on the road before her. Completely out of the blue, she had appeared at the Dugrey door, asking for him to join her. Scratching the small patch of hair beneath his lower lip, Riley allowed his gaze to drift back to Rory as she stayed silent through the drive. She fidgeted in her seat, one hand snaking to her neck as she anxiously pulled at the thin chain suspended around the smooth column of her throat, slipping her fingers through the silver band dangling from the chain. Riley watched as the scenery slipped past them before Rory pulled into downtown Hartford. Silently, she exited the car, gliding almost dazedly onto the sidewalk. Riley followed, his long strides easily keeping in pace with her frazzled movements.

"So, uh, where to?"

As if realizing his presence for the first time, Rory jerked, rotating to face her companion. A weak smile flitted across her face as a shrug lifted her shoulders.

"Uh, how about some lunch? Do you know any good places around here?"

Riley flashed a grin, "As a matter of fact, I do." Hitching his head in a different direction, he ambled forward.

"C'mon."

Intrigued, Rory trailed after him until they reached a small, outdoor restaurant in the corner of the street. Leading her to a small table, Riley held out her chair as she slid into the seat.

"Welcome to Rodney's." Making his way to the seat across from her, Riley threw his arms out, "This place has the best food in Hartford. Even rivals Hector's near school." Leaning back in his own chair, he cocked his head at the brunette across from him.

"Now, as much as I enjoy the pleasure of your company, Ms. Gilmore, I'm under the impression that I don't stand exceedingly lofty on your choice companion's list. Not to sound cynical or anything, but I have a feeling this isn't completely because you wanted to spend some time with lil ol' me, and I'm not offended in the least." Riley quirked an eyebrow at Rory's slightly anxious posture.

"So what's this about?"

Before Rory could answer, a tall blonde approached their table, pad in hand. Flashing a sunny smile, the waitress sent a flirtatious wink towards Riley's direction.

"Riley! What a surprise to see you here! This isn't one of your normal days."

A friendly smile gracing his face, Riley shrugged, "Just enjoying a lunch with a good friend, Jane. I'll have my usual."

Jane nodded, scribbling in her pad before turning to Rory, "And you, ma'am?"

Rory glanced down at the menu, "Uh, just a cheeseburger, fries, and a coffee, please."

With another nod and a smile, Jane departed with another wink in Riley's direction. Catching the gesture, Rory sat back, sending an interested glance towards her companion.

"You seem popular around here."

Riley chuckled, shrugging sheepishly, "Yeah, well, I kinda tend to haunt this particular café. To be called a regular is a bit of an understatement. When I was penning my latest novel, I would come here and just sit for hours at a time, scribing two to three chapters a night. About ten cups of coffee later, I'd still be going strong. I'm surprised they haven't kicked me out yet."

Rory smiled, "Well, you're good for business. I highly doubt they would."

Riley grinned, "Yeah, and they're a good writing atmosphere. I wouldn't go anywhere else." Nodding his thanks as Jane set his food on the table, Riley reached for the ketchup, scooting his chair closer to the table. Opening his mouth wide to chomp down on the humongous sandwich before him, Riley winced as the sharp texture of the bread came into contact with the split in his lip. Spotting his discomfort, Rory leaned closer.

"Riley, are you okay?"

Gingerly dabbing at the cut, Riley absently nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Cocking an eyebrow at the slice near the corner of his lower lip, Rory looked closer, "What happened?"

Riley waved a dismissive hand, "Aw, nothing. TJ just decked me there."

"He what?" Rory frowned, "What for?"

Riley shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "He may have walked in on me and Ali in a rather, ahem, compromising position."

As Rory's eyebrows shot skyward, Riley ran a hand through his hair, "Okay, we were making out on the couch…"

Rory giggled, "I gather you neglected to tell Tristan."

"Yeah," Riley sighed, scratching the back of his neck, fiddling with the medallion dangling from the column of his throat, "He didn't take it too well."

Rory frowned, "That doesn't sound like Tristan…"

"That's what I thought," Riley agreed, his hand drifting to the leather cord above the medallion, "And since he mentioned he was hanging out with you, I'm taking you have an idea why he just decked me, and I'm also betting it extends past the shock that Alex and I are dating."

Rory shrugged, sighing heavily, "I think I do, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with me dating Logan."

Riley snorted, "You think?" Sighing as he met Rory's stare directly, Riley's mouth tightened, "What did you say?"

"Well, may have started with me insinuating that he and Logan are essentially the same person…" At Riley's reproving quirk of an eyebrow, Rory rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid on my part." Tucking a strand of hair behind her head, Rory shrugged.

"Then it just went downhill from there. I said some things, he said some things…He insulted Logan, and I told him he didn't know anything." Rory sighed, "I don't know, Riley. He seems so adamant about hating Logan. It's like he won't even give him a chance. I know that Logan can be really sweet sometimes."

Riley chuckled, "Rory, Tristan's never going to like Logan. I mean, you've seen how protective of Alex he is. You really think he's gonna forgive and forget?"

"No," Rory admitted, "But I can't choose between them."

"And he's never gonna make you," Riley affirmed, "Look, Tristan cares about you, Rory. Probably more than he cares about anyone. He just wants what happened to Alex not happen to you, and I would think that a little disagreement concerning Logan wouldn't be enough to really set him off. What else did you say?"

Rory shook her head, "I don't know. I think it started when I accused him of using me as another conquest."

Riley groaned, his head flopping back against the back of the chair, "Rory…"

"What?" Rory was taken aback at Riley's obvious exasperation. The tall brunette settled an intense gray gaze on her.

"Do you remember what I told you that first night we spent in Stars Hollow?"

"Yeah." Rory nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion, "You told me never to doubt Tristan's intentions."

"And…" Riley prompted, waving his hands in an emphatic gesture.

Rory groaned, her head drooping in realization, "That's exactly what I did…"

"Ding, ding, ding." Riley deadpanned. Raking his hands through his hair, Riley sighed, "Rory, you have to understand that Tristan just wants to protect you like he would Ali. He hates to see you like this. What happened with Mitchum Huntzberger shouldn't affect you this much…"

"But it did…" Rory whispered, her voice lowering timidly.  
"Yeah," Riley murmured, "Apparently it did." Sighing, Riley met Rory's brilliant blue eyes directly.

"Look, Rory. Just talk to him. Lay everything out. He's hurt because you never gave him a chance, and he's loved you for so long. Nothing's ever been ignoble when it came to you. Please, just hear him out."

Rory stared at Riley, his silver eyes pleading the case of his best friend. Before she could nod her consent, her brow furrowed as Riley's posture tensed, and his gray eyes that shone with a warmth and kindness suddenly flashed with unbridled rage as his strong jaw clenched. Confused at his sudden shift in demeanor, Rory barely caught the greeting until a hand settled on her shoulder.

"Uh, hey, Ace…"

Realization dawning on Rory, she shifted to meet Logan Huntzberger's deep brown eyes. Smiling tightly, she returned the salutation, "Logan."

Forcing out an affable smile, Logan turned to Riley, "Beaumont."

Barely able to contain his composure in the presence of the boy who had almost destroyed his girlfriend, Riley didn't bother to mask his hatred at the shorter blonde, "Hamburger."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he bit out a response through clenched teeth, "It's Huntzberger."

Riley quirked a sardonic eyebrow, "You honestly think I care?"

Rory cut in before Logan did something drastic, "So, um, what brings you here, Logan?"

Logan shrugged sheepishly, "Uh, I saw you here and just thought I'd say hello."

Rory glanced at Riley, his posture surprisingly relaxed, almost amused as he looked onto the interaction between the pair. Gesturing to the empty seat, Rory appealed to Riley, who responded with a short nod of his head, a sly smile on his face, before glancing back to Logan.

"Uh, well, it'd be a shame for you to just wander off. Would you like to join us?"

"I'd hate to intrude…" Logan began as he settled down beside Rory.

Riley forced out a smile dripping with irony, "Well, a bit late for that sentiment, wouldn't you say, Hamburger?"

Logan glared at the taller brunette, "So what brings you two out here?"

"A little lunch between friends, right Rory?" Riley answered.

"Friends? I wasn't aware of this friendship…" Logan cocked his head at the girl beside him.

Rory cast a nervous glance in Riley's direction, "We've been friends since high school."

"Really? And funny how we all go to Yale." Logan simpered, clapping his hands in faux enthusiasm, "So what do you major in?"

Riley smirked, "Major in English, minor in American Literature."

Logan cocked a condescending eyebrow, "Doesn't seem too practical for the real world."

"It is for my world," Riley answered, not amused, "I write."

"You write?" Logan faked his interest, "Impressive. What do you write?"

"Obituaries."

Logan's smirk wavered, taken aback at the flippant answer, "Really?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "He wrote a book."

Comprehension dawned on the blonde, and he inclined his head in understanding, "Oh. So you penned the great American novel?"

Riley hefted a chuckle heavy with entertainment at Logan's challenge, "There you go again with that flattery, Hamburger. Nah, wasn't quite that ambitious."

Logan bristled slightly, his nostrils flaring at Riley's nonchalance, "So what are we talking here? Short novel? Kafka length, or longer? Dos Pasos? Tolstoy? Or longer? Robert Musil? Proust?" Logan straightened, staring directly into Riley's pale gray eyes.

"I'm not throwing you with these names, am I?"

A raised eyebrow and a cheeky smirk filled Logan's line of vision, and the blonde could see the remark didn't faze his opponent in the least, "You seem very obsessed with length, but no. In fact, I wouldn't put it past you that you're throwing yourself trying to think of all of those names up."

Logan seethed, "I'm just trying to get a picture in my head, that's all."

Riley threw out a mocking smile, "Well, allow me to provide you with the bigger picture. We're talking Salinger length but with the imagery of Fitzgerald, the characterization of Shakespeare, and the wit and depth of Thoreau. Of course, those aren't my words. But, you must know that length doesn't always equal quality, right, Hamburger?" Pairing the insinuation with a subtle flick of the eyes, Riley smirked.

"But then again, maybe you don't…"

Rory cut in before Logan launched himself across the table, his dark eyes incensed with the implication, "It's a short novel."

Logan calmed as he turned to Rory, restraining his urge to rise to Riley's bait, "Any good?"

Rory beamed, "Yeah, as a matter of fact, it is."

Logan returned a supremely confident grin, "I don't seem to recall your name on any recent novels."

Riley curtailed the impulse to roll his eyes, "I write under a penname. R. Daniel Chase."

Logan snapped his fingers in realization, "You're the guy who wrote that military school book."

"Johnny, give that man a prize," Riley deadpanned, applauding Logan's awareness.

Logan smirked with his knowledge at the response to Riley's novel, "You know, a lot of papers gave that book some pretty scathing reviews."

Riley chuckled, completely indifferent, unaffected at the connotation behind Logan's words, "Those papers were owned by your father. Much more prestigious papers had a much more stellar reception."

Logan seethed, "You should send me a copy. I'll make my own decision."

"Shocker. Would it be a first? I'd be surprised if Daddy didn't pull that string to make you jump as well." Riley smirked, "It's not that difficult to find my novel. Every major bookstore chain carries it, and it's still in high demand." Sighing headily, sarcasm heavy in the gesture, Riley shrugged his shoulders.

"But, if I must, I guess I could. Should I'd send it to the father of Alexandra Dugrey's deceased, unborn child?" Riley's pale gaze hardened.

"Wait, I couldn't. I don't think they'd know which mailbox to put it in. After all, you deny that tidbit of information." Riley stood, gazing at Logan directly in the eye as he threw a few bills on the table.

"That should cover it. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure to be succeeding in something other than what Daddy wants." Riley cocked an eyebrow in Logan's direction.

"But then again, I doubt you can relate."

Logan bristled, leaping to his feet. Squaring up to the taller Riley, he glared up into the steady silver spheres, "Whoa, whoa, we're just trying to keep it friendly here, buddy!"

Riley chuckled, glancing away. When his gaze settled back on Logan's shorter frame, the blonde almost shied away from the intensity veiled beneath the powerful stare, "You wanna talk friendly? Okay, let's talk friendly." Riley seemed to loom even taller over Logan, "You seem to have a _friendly_ relationship with my fist, Hamburger. Now get out of my way before that friendship turns into something more intimate." Sending Logan sprawling, Riley took off down the street.

Hefting himself off the ground, he glanced at the brunette beside him, "Forget him, Rory."

Rory whirled, glaring at her boyfriend, and Logan backed away from the anger in her brilliant eyes, "Don't follow me."

Rushing after Riley, Rory caught up with him, halting the taller man with a hand to the arm, "Riley, wait."

Riley sighed, scratching the hair at the base of his neck, "Sorry for walking out like that, but my tolerance for Logan Huntzberger can only withstand so much. And with that little display asserting all facets of masculinity, I believe I just met my quota for the month."

Rory glanced up at him, her eyes pleading, Look, he's just in a bad way lately."

Riley snorted, "'Lately?' You sure that's not his normal disposition?"

"I'm sorry, Riley. I should have realized this wouldn't turn out so great the moment he showed up."

The harsh glint in Riley's eyes softened, and he reached out, drawing the smaller girl into a hug, "Look, don't worry about it. You obviously need to talk to him about things, so when you need me, I'm just going to be at the bookstore over there."

Rory followed his finger to a quaint little shop across the street, "Okay."

Riley grinned, making his way towards the store when Rory's voice caught his attention, "Riley?"

As he turned back, Rory glanced down at her, "About what you said, y'know, before Logan interrupted…"

Riley rotated, his full attention centered on her, "Yeah?"

Rory met his eyes, "I will."

Riley smiled, nodding his head. Rory watched him as his broad back disappeared into the small shop. Jerking herself back to the present, she narrowed her eyes and with a determined light to her eyes, she squared her shoulders marching back to the table.

Rory's eyes scanned the crowded café, and her eyes settled on Logan sitting at their table. One long finger traced the rim of the tumbler of scotch sitting before him, and he glanced up, noticing her lack of company, "What the hell? He gone?"

Rory sighed, nodding her head, "Yes. He's gone.

Logan scoffed, responding with a toss of his head, "Writers. They're so sensitive."

Rory cut him off, her blatant statement freezing him in his seat, "You were a jerk, Logan."

Surprised at her blunt comment, Logan sat up straighter, "I was just challenging him, geez."

Rory rolled her eyes, "It's one thing if you're challenging him and you're getting the best of him, Logan. It's another thing if he's verbally kicking your ass."

Logan waved away her comment with a dismissive hand, "Hey, if Hemingway could take it, so could he. Hey, if he wanted to, he could've taken a pop at me."

"Again?" Rory snarked, leveling him with an even stare, "Because he is right, you know. You do have a rather intimate relationship with his fist."

Logan ignored her, "Pugnacity. It's a vital component in literary life. Again, consult your Hemingway. Come on. Do not let this guy get to you."

Rory threw up her hands, "You're getting to me!"

Logan lay an innocent hand on his breast, "Me?"

Rory's head bobbed emphatically, staring down the boy across from her, "Yes. You were an ass!"

Logan rolled his eyes, "Look. I'm sorry I came over, I really messed things up here."

Rory continued on her rant, not paying attention, "Riley wrote a book! He wrote a book, and you mocked him."

"I did not mock him." Logan protested.

"He's doing something!" Rory continued, her tirade taking her down the path of realization.

Logan threw up a thumbs-up, emphasizing the gesture with a sardonic fist pump, "Good, fine, he's doing something. Everybody in the world's doing something. More power to him."

"I'm not!" Rory persisted. Her brow furrowed as she mulled her situation over out loud, "I mean, what am I doing? I'm living with my grandparents."

Logan dismissed her claim with a toss of his head, "C'mon, Ace, that's temporary. Have a drink."

Rory shook her head, "Temporary can turn into forever."

Logan lifted his glass of scotch to his lips, pointing out, "You're not living with the Gilmores forever."

Rory's rant didn't diminish in the slightest, "I'm palling with my grandmother, I'm being waited on by a maid. I come home and my shoes are magically shined, my clothes are magically clean, ironed and laid out. My bed is magically turned down. I'm in the DAR? I'm going to meetings and teas and cocktail parties?"

Logan's hand waved in front of her face, his head shaking back and forth, "Again, temporary. Have a drink."

"I'm wasting my time partying and drinking, just hanging out, doing nothing!" Rory mused, her voice rising to a hysterical decibel.

Logan's face clouded over as he stood up, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't pull me into this."

Rory's brow furrowed in confusion as she gazed up at her boyfriend, "I didn't say anything about you."

"Yes you did." The accusation knifed through the air as Logan jabbed his finger in the space before him, "Don't make me feel guilty for your drinking and partying. That's your choice. I'm not forcing you when I ask you out, you can say no!"

"It's all we do." Rory shot back in her own defense.

Logan shook his head, refuting her claim, "It's not all we do."

"It's all _you_ do."

Logan's face took on a nasty light as he threw back the last dregs of his scotch, "Well, that's my prerogative, you know? You're damn straight, I'm going to party. I'm going to do it while I have the chance because come June, my life is over!"

Rory rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air, "Oh, yes, your horrible life, let's hear about it!"

His eyes narrowing, Logan dragged a hand over his mouth, trying to rid himself of the taste of alcohol weighing down his tongue, "Got a week?"

Rory stared him down, her eyes sparking with uncharacteristic anger, "You have every door open to you! You have opportunities that anyone would kill for, including me!"

Logan snorted with derision, "No one's stopping you from making whatever you want happen! Go into journalism! Go into politics! Be a doctor, be a clown! Do whatever you want!"

Rory returned his snort, "It's not as easy when it's not handed to you."

Logan braced his hands on the table, staring her straight in the eye, "Really. It's all so easy for me? I don't want that life! It's forced on me! You talk about all these doors being open? All I see is one door, and I'm being pushed through it! I have no choice! You try living without options."

Rory's next comment threw him for a loop, "How hard are you fighting it?"

Logan blanched, "What?"

Rory steeled, "You heard me, Logan. How hard are you fighting it?"

"What are you talking about, Rory?" Logan asked, his voice lowering to a weak tenor.

Rory shook her head, "It's simple, Logan. You say you're being pushed into this life, but so was Tristan. So was Riley, and both of them found a way to get out. Maybe you're just not searching hard enough."

Logan's features contorted into a sneer, "Oh, so now this is about Dugrey, isn't it?"

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "Yeah, I guess you could say it is. Because now I'm seeing exactly what he's been telling me about you, Logan. Are you really like this, or is the nice, sweet guy that I've been dating just an act?"

"Ace…" Logan's tough façade shattered with her words, and his dark eyes pled with hers.

"No, Logan. Ever since we've been together, I've been listening to you. Look where it's gotten me. Now you listen to me." Rory straightened with a confidence she hadn't felt since before the debacle with Mitchum Huntzberger, "I feel as though I don't know you. When you're around me, you're sweet, kind, and loving, but then I hear about this ruthless, cold, unfeeling you. Who is the real Logan? Is it this loving boyfriend or this jackass?"

"You know the real me, Ace." Logan began to protest, but Rory held up a hand to silence him.

"No, Logan. I _don't_ know the real you. Because if I did know the 'real you' I wouldn't be doubting that, God forbid, if I was ever in the same position Alex Dugrey was last year in, you wouldn't react in the same way."

"Ace…" Logan's reply cut feebly through the air.

"Stop, Logan." At Rory's command, he shrank back in his chair. Shaking her head, Rory gazed directly in his pitiful eyes, "You said that you loved her. You say you love me. But what if I suddenly came to your door telling you I was pregnant? Would you still love me? Or would you throw a check at me the way you did her?" Rory's eyes flashed with empathy directed towards the girl not present with them.

"Do you realize what you did to that poor girl, Logan? Have you seen her lately? She is nothing like she used to be. Do you even feel any remorse knowing how much you broke her? How she's still affected by the very sight of you?" Rory shook her head in disgust, "I thought I could give you this chance, Logan. That maybe what I was starting to see was just a fluke occurrence…" The shifting of her head that started as a gesture of disgust turned into a movement of remorse.

"But seeing how childishly you acted today, maybe it wasn't a fluke." Rory raised apologetic eyes to Logan.

"It's over, Logan."

Logan's heart seized, his breath catching in his throat. Unable to process what just happened, he could only gape, but as the full impact of Rory's words registered in his mind, he wavered in his seat, "Wh-what?"

Rory sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry, Logan. I can't do this anymore. I though I knew who you were. I guess not."

"This is all Dugrey's doing, isn't it?" Logan bit out, his head beginning to throb with the onslaught of emotion he was experiencing.

"No, Logan. This is all on you. Do you really believe I would just forgive and forget what you did to Alex considering the way _I_ came into this world?" Rory shook her head, "Tristan has been nothing but honest to me. He's never hidden anything from me. I know I can trust him. I have always trusted him. You? Not so much." Rory gathered her purse from her chair. After a moment of indecision, she leaned down, pressing a final kiss to Logan's cheek, one last comforting gesture.

"Goodbye, Logan." As she walked away, a dull ache of confusion captured his ability to function, and he simply stared, unable to sort out the events that had just transpired. As the full weight began to bear down on his chest, his conscience beginning a nagging whine in his ear, Logan's mind drifted back to one year prior and the pale gray eyes looming down on him from a lofty six-three height.

"_**One of these days, Hamburger, you are gonna find a girl worth keeping, and this right here will come back to haunt you. Mark my words, Huntzberger. Karma's a bitch."**_

Logan allowed his head to loll back against the back of his chair. Closing his eyes, he cursed himself, Alex Dugrey, Riley Beaumont, and finally Tristan Dugrey. Premonition sucked ass.

- - -

Rory Gilmore felt strangely free as she strolled along the crowded street to the small bookstore situated at a corner of the long boulevard. With each step, another pound of the burden that had encumbered her chest felt as though it had left their chest. Throwing open the door, her eyes swept over the fairly empty store to rest on a lofty tousle-locked mop of brown hair, the steady, gray eyes absorbing the lines in the book clutched in his hands. Lolloping over to Riley, she threw out a knee, knocking into the back of his. Buckling under the movement, Riley whirled, grinning at the laughing blue eyes filling his vision.

"Huh. You're chipper."

Rory shrugged, "Yeah, well, I kinda broke up with Logan."

Riley shook his head, "Ice woman, Gilmore. Shouldn't you be feeling a bit of remorse?"

Rory nervously shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind her head, "Yeah, but I guess I didn't really know the guy I broke up with." A flash of sorrow flit over her face, before her attention shifted back to the book in his grasp.

"What you got there?"

Riley lifted the book, "'The Complete Works of Robert Frost.'" Riley shrugged, "Poetry is always good for an accurate description of life." He let out a rueful chuckle, "Besides, the pros always say it best."

Rory smiled, "So what's your favorite poem?"

Riley grinned, "Ah, well, I could go completely commercial and say 'Nothing Gold Can Stay,' but my heart lays completely in the motto my dearly deceased uncle left to me as his last words…" Riley pointed to the page.

Rory squinted at the title on the page, "'Carpe Diem?' I'm not familiar with that one."

Riley smiled, closing his eyes as he recited the poem from memory. The lines flew naturally from his mouth in a smooth rhythm, each word striking a solid chord in his heart.

"_Age saw two quiet children  
__Go living by at twilight,  
__He knew not whether homeward  
__Or outward from the village,  
__Or (chimes were ringing) churchward.  
__He waited (they were strangers)  
_'_Till they were out of hearing  
__To bid them both be happy.  
_'_Be happy, happy, happy,  
__And seize the day of pleasure. '  
__The age-long theme is Age's.  
_'_Twas Age imposed on poems  
__Their gather-roses burden  
__To warn against the danger  
__That overtaken lovers  
__From being overflooded  
__With happiness should have it  
__And yet not know they have it.  
__But bid life seize the present?  
__It lives less in the present  
__Than in the future always  
__And less in both together than in the past. The present  
__Is too much for the senses,  
__Too crowding, too confusing –  
__Too present to image_."

Rory blinked, surprised at the words, "What does it mean?"

Riley chuckled, "I'll let you know when I find out…"

Rory's mouth dropped open in surprise, "Riley Beaumont unable to decipher a work of literature? Never thought I'd see the day."

Riley waggled his finger in a gesture of caution, "Ah, but I distinctly remember stumping a certain movie buff with a line from one of the best unknown movies of all time…"

Rory giggled, "Touché…"

Riley grinned, "It's not really the actual poem more than it is the title."

Rory frowned, "The title?"

Riley nodded, "Yep. 'Carpe Diem.' It was the last thing my uncle told me before he died, and it was actually really fitting. The quote from a movie, and he was a movie director." Riley paused, the memory surging forward from the depths at which he buried them.

"He told me, 'Riley, you're gonna do something with your life, no matter what your dad says. Don't you ever let anyone say you're not cut out for your dreams. But you're not gonna be able to prove him wrong by not doing anything." Riley blinked back the tears, "He said, '_Carpe diem_. You have to seize the day. Make your life extraordinary because you can.'" Riley chuckled, "It was the most meaningful thing anyone has ever said to me, and it really stuck." He extended his forearm, the motto inscripted on the inside of his arm. Rory traced the letters.

"'_Carpe diem_. Seize the day,' huh?"

"Yeah, well, when the guy's the only one who gives a rip, you kinda hold a certain amount of gratitude towards him." Riley let out a mirthless chuckle, "You know, it's not enough to use his name as part of my reincarnation, if you will. I've gotta mark my skin, too." He gestured to the name tattooed around his wrist, "And use his wedding band as a good luck charm." Riley wriggled the platinum band around his right ring finger.

Rory smiled, "And the medallion?"

Riley grinned, "From my mom with the hope that St. Christopher will protect me."

"You really miss him, don't you?"

Riley nodded, "They say time heals all wounds. Obviously whoever said that had more than two people to live for."

Rory smiled, "I hope that number has multiplied over the years."

Riley's gaze drifted down to the book in his hands before replacing it on the shelf, "Yeah. Lucky for me, it has."

"So _carpe diem_?"

Riley nodded, "Yeah. It started as just a thing with me and TJ, but then our whole graduating class got into it."

Rory smiled, "I like it. It's really stimulating."

Riley grinned, "You should use it. It seems very fitting for someone who has so much ambition like yourself."

"Had." Rory corrected, "I _had_ ambition. Not so much now."

Riley chuckled, "You can never take away something like ambition, Rory. That's like saying you can take away passion. It may fade into a dormant state, but it is never fully gone. Sometimes, you just need a match to rekindle the flame." Plucking a book from the shelf, Riley glanced at the title, nodding in satisfaction. Flipping through the pages, he placed the ribbon bookmark between two sheets before handing the book to her.

"Thoreau. Preacher of the human potential. Really good if you need a pick-me-up from whatever life throws at you." Riley glanced down at the book.

"If Emerson was the father of transcendentalism, you could call Thoreau the son. You might wanna read 'Independence.' It could give you some insight. Maybe a bit of inspiration, too." Hitching his head back towards the door, Riley smiled.

"I'm gonna head back. I have a couple of things to take care of back at the house."

Rory's head shot up from perusing the cover, "Don't you need a ride?"

Riley shook his head, "Nah, I'm gonna bus it. You look like you need some time to yourself."

"Riley, it's really no problem…" Rory began to insist.

"No, really, it's okay. Just buy that book, talk to TJ, and call us even."

Rory smiled, nodding. Riley wrapped her in a firm hug before backing out the entrance of the shop.

"Rory?"

Rory's eyes drifted up to meet the pale silver gaze, "Yeah."

Riley grinned, "_Carpe diem_."

Rory smiled, nodding her head in comprehension. Paying for the book, she opened to the pages Riley marked. Scanning through the poem, Rory found herself drawn to a stanza.

_Ye princes keep your realms  
__And circumscribed power  
__Not as wide as are my dreams  
__Nor rich as is this hour_

Rory thought about Riley's motto: _carpe diem_. Maybe it _was_ time to seize the day and take that first step back down the path of her dreams. She was done wallowing in her hole of self-pity. One man's opinion wasn't going to faze her any longer. Screw Mitchum Huntzberger. She was going to show him just how cut out Lorelai Leigh Gilmore was for the journalism world.

- - -

Tristan hovered by the door of his car. Lorelai leaned against the open entryway, one arm braced on the window. The elder Gilmore wrapped him in a hug, squeezing tightly. Pulling away, Lorelai rubbed his arm.

"Remember, kid, just show her you still care."

Tristan nodded, running a hand through his hair, "I will, Lorelai. I'm bringing her back."

Lorelai smiled, fiddling with the engagement band around her finger, "You better. I don't wanna prolong this wedding any longer than I have to."

Tristan chuckled, his eyes meeting Lorelai's with a sincere determination, "You won't have to. I'll get her down here if I have to string her along with a coffee cup."

Lorelai nodded, "It's gonna be okay, Tristan. Everything's gonna work out in the end."

Tristan allowed a small grin to curve the side of his mouth, "I hope so. All this drama is really wearing thin on my psyche…"

Lorelai huffed out a chuckle, "You and me both, kiddo…" As Tristan ducked down to enter his car, Lorelai called him back, "Tristan?"

Tristan's head popped back up, and Lorelai twisted her hands, "Just…don't hold anything back."

Tristan nodded, "I will."

"And don't kill Riley!"

Tristan chuckled, "I won't make any promises on that…"

Lorelai nodded as the tires of his Porsche kicked up gravel as it sped down the road. For the first time in months, the elder Gilmore felt free, as though everything was righting itself again.

- - -

As Tristan's foot pressed down on the accelerator, he felt the wind whip through his hair, the car taking him down the highway and north towards Hartford. Glancing up at the sky, Tristan noticed the small wisps of dark clouds beginning to slide over the clear sky. In the close confines of the car, Tristan thought back to the two most prevalent problems in his life: Rory Gilmore, and the relationship between Beau and Alex.

Although he still felt a deep resentment towards the girl he had loved since high school, the girl who had turned into his closest confidant, Tristan knew the truth: he could never truly be mad at her. That fact proved to be painfully evident. No matter the words exchanged, no matter the hurtful insults, Tristan could never hold onto his anger. However, hurt lay in a whole 'nother spectrum. Beneath all the anger and resentment Tristan harbored, there resided an overwhelming feeling of hurt. Hurt that she would ever think his intentions were anything but honorable, hurt that she would even voice such an accusation, hurt that she would run off into Logan Huntzberger's arms. But as much as the pain inhabited his body, he still couldn't find it in himself to truly rupture the bond he and Rory shared, and he didn't think he really wanted to.

Placing that dilemma aside, Tristan focused his thoughts on another pairing that knocked him head-over-heels: Beau and Alex. Idly rubbing one hand over his eyes, Tristan found himself conceding – albeit a bit reluctantly – to their obvious situation. Hefting a heavy sigh, he supposed that if any male should possess the attentions of his sister, Riley would be his ideal choice. In truth, he really should have seen the pairing coming. Riley had been there for Alex every step of the way through the debacle her freshman year at Yale, and Tristan was truly thankful for his best friend. Sighing in resignation, he succumbed to the inevitable: his best friend and his baby sister were together, and he was okay with that. But if Beau hurt her…

Tristan shut the engine off, laying back in the driver's seat. Through the drive to and from Stars Hollow, the turmoil that had wracked his heart had lessened slightly, but the last dredges of resentment still lurked beneath his acceptance. Shaking his head in annoyance, Tristan brushed aside that resentment as he entered Janlan's house.

Throwing his keys on the coffee table, Tristan plopped down on the couch, propping his feet on the table. Running his hands through his hair, Tristan sighed, his gaze wandering to the stack of letters spread across the side table. Hefting himself off the couch, he strode over to the table. Plucking the letters from the surface, Tristan flipped through each one. A frown spread across his face as his gaze swept over an envelope addressed to him. Breaking the seal with a deft tug of his hand, Tristan removed the letter from the depths. His eyes swept over the words, and as each word registered in his mind, time slowed another second. The room swirled around him as Tristan's breath halted in his throat, the bile beginning to bubble in his stomach. Tristan threw out a hand to steady himself against the table as the wave of nausea crashed into his conscious. Barely able to comprehend his actions, Tristan grabbed his keys, stumbling to the door. As though his body was on autopilot, Tristan slid back into his Porsche, zipping along the highway through the rapidly clouding sky. The tears began to blur his vision as the haunting words permeated his brain fully.

- - -

Rory Gilmore settled down on the bed of her grandparent's pool house. Glancing down at the book in her hands, she remembered Riley's words spoken to her earlier that day. Thinking about Logan and their breakup, Rory reconciled the last year in her mind, and she couldn't live without Tristan in her life anymore. The last year had been completely empty without him. She had missed his teasing smirk, his deep, sonorous voice, his dazzling blue eyes, and his quick and witty asides. Rory was aware that it was up to her to begin mending fences, after all, it was her stupidity that had gotten them in this position in the first place, and after a year of stubborn denial, she was ready to take that first step.

Rory's gaze drifted to the window of the pool house, her brow furrowing in confusion at the suddenly overcast skies, and she rose up from her place on the bed to stand by the window. A sharp, incessant knocking broke through her thoughts, the volume growing progressively louder and more insistent. A frown spreading across her face in puzzlement, Rory made her way to the door. As the entryway parted, she gasped at the figure behind it.

"Tristan?"

Tristan shifted on the steps, his worn leather jacket drawn tight against his body as though the rough material would shield him from the onslaught of the emotion he was currently undergoing. The steady stream of tears marred his features, and he raised red, blood-shot eyes to hers. Rory withheld a gasp at the helpless and utterly lost glint to his eyes, and without a second thought, she reached out, drawing him into her embrace. Closing the door behind her, Rory clutched Tristan tighter, sinking to the ground as he sagged against her. Huddled at the base of the door, Rory stroked his tousled hair as he sobbed into her chest, his hands clutching her waist. With a shuddering breath, Tristan burrowed even deeper into her embrace, the steady flow of tears surging forward. Alarmed at his sudden burst of emotion, Rory rubbed his back.

"Tristan, what's wrong?"

Tristan only cried harder, his chest heaving with the heady tears. Through the muffled sobs, Rory could only decipher one line as Tristan repeated the mantra over and over again, his voice haunted and his breathing shallow.

"He's gone…he's gone…"

Unable to coax anything more out of him, Rory settled with grasping him tighter against her, whispering soothing words of comfort as she pressed reassuring kisses to his hair. Her focus concentrated on calming Tristan's wild sobs, neither noticed the silver cuff as it slipped from its place on his wrist, clattering softly as it settled onto the worn, wooden floor.

_Aaaand, cut! Wellup, there you go, folks. I give you the end of chapter twelve. The next chapter will reveal exactly who is gone and what is to be done about this development. In the next few chapters, we will stray away from Connecticut and onto a different scenery, one that will provide both a building block to the Trory relationship, a stepping block to both Rory's confidence, as well as a stumbling block for Beau and Alex. Rory and Logan's relationship is officially over, but Logan isn't quite done with this story, as is Paris…oops, I may have slipped with something there. Anyway, get ready. This is when the good stuff happens…Stay tuned…_

_Roxy_


	13. There's Nothing Left, Part I

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything. The poem in this chapter is "O Captain! My Captain!" belonging to Walt Whitman, and the song is "Collide" by Howie Day_

_Okay, folks, sorry for the delay. AP testing is currently the only thing encumbering my brain at the moment. Good enough excuse, I hope. Anyway, I am so amped about the feedback I'm receiving from the last chapter! Keep it coming, and I'm glad you all liked it. Although, I am a bit miffed that some predicted Janlan as the one who died…I appreciate the compliance towards my suggestion to pay attention to detail, but that's looking a bit too deep. To those who guessed correctly, you received a reply…you know who you are…_

_So this chapter is a bit of a transition into the climax of the story as we introduce who exactly died as well as the reactions from all those who the death impacted. Most of this chapter deals with the aftermath, and next we will deal with the actual funeral. And I have no idea how you break into a car, so bear with me when that part comes…_

_Onward!_

**Chapter 13**

_There's Nothing Left that You'd Forgive, Part I_

**_"Tristan?"_**

_**Tristan shifted on the steps, his worn leather jacket drawn tight against his body as though the rough material would shield him from the onslaught of the emotion he was currently undergoing. The steady stream of tears marred his features, and he raised red, blood-shot eyes to hers. Rory withheld a gasp at the helpless and utterly lost glint to his eyes, and without a second thought, she reached out, drawing him into her embrace. Closing the door behind her, Rory clutched Tristan tighter, sinking to the ground as he sagged against her. Huddled at the base of the door, Rory stroked his tousled hair as he sobbed into her chest, his hands clutching her waist. With a shuddering breath, Tristan burrowed even deeper into her embrace, the steady flow of tears surging forward. Alarmed at his sudden burst of emotion, Rory rubbed his back.**_

_**"Tristan, what's wrong?"**_

_**Tristan only cried harder, his chest heaving with the heady tears. Through the muffled sobs, Rory could only decipher one line as Tristan repeated the mantra over and over again, his voice haunted and his breathing shallow.**_

"_**He's gone…he's gone…"**_

_**Unable to coax anything more out of him, Rory settled with grasping him tighter against her, whispering soothing words of comfort as she pressed reassuring kisses to his hair. Her focus concentrated on calming Tristan's wild sobs, neither noticed the silver cuff as it slipped from its place on his wrist, clattering softly as it settled onto the worn, wooden floor.**_

- - -

Rory ran her hands up and down Tristan's back as he drew in a shallow breath, his sobs calming for the moment. His distraught, pained stare drifted up from her chest to rest on hers, and the emotion conveyed by the bewildered, poignant expression veiled in his eyes struck Rory solidly in the heart. On its own volition, Rory's hand snaked up to cup Tristan's cheek, and he closed his eyes, turning into her touch, seeking comfort from the simple gesture. The pad of her hand gently wiped away the stray tears that wandered down his cheeks, and Rory tenderly stroked the dampened skin.

"What happened, Tristan? What's wrong?"

At her inquiry, Rory felt Tristan stiffen beneath her fingers, and she caught the flash of agony as it flickered across his dulled blue eyes. Tristan swallowed hard, glancing away. After a lengthy pause, he jerked as if realizing he was yet to answer her query. Slowly, sluggishly, his hand drifted to a pocket of his jacket, and after fishing around a bit, Tristan produced a crumpled letter, offering the paper out to her. Gently extracting the letter from his vice grip, Rory smoothed the sheet out, reading over the paper dampened by tears.

_Dear Mr. Tristan Dugrey:_

_We regret to inform you that Second Lieutenant Brandon Knox was killed in action during a raid of a small, remote area outside of the capital. We have procured some of his personal belongings, and it was among his last wishes that these letters be sent to you. We are deeply sorry for your loss._

_Sincerely,_

_General Grant Jackson, United States Marine Corps_

As the words registered in Rory's mind, her head shot up, glancing over at Tristan in alarm. He sat huddled against the door, his hands twisting in his lap, stroking the smooth metal of the silver cuff he had retrieved from the ground as he swayed back and forth, the quiet sobs still wracking through his body.

Rory allowed the letter to fall from her fingers, reaching out to gather Tristan in her arms. He slumped down, leaning against her to seek support as another fresh bout of tears gushed forward. Rory rocked them gently, her hands raking though the dampened strands of his hair, her lips ghosting across his forehead and cheeks. As Tristan's sobs subsided, he let out a shuddering sigh, drawing back and wiping the remnants of tears from his face.

"I'm sorry."

Rory reached out to grasp his hand, intertwining their fingers. The gesture brought Tristan's eyes up to hers, and she shot him a reassuring smile, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Tristan's mouth tightened in a smile, and Rory squeezed his hand gently, "So, what are you going to do?"

Tristan exhaled, sniffing back the last vestiges of tears as he dragged one hand across his eyes as he shook his head, "I don't know. I haven't heard anything yet from his parents. They would've called." His shoulders lifted in a lethargic shrug, "I'm guessing the services will be held in New York. That's where he was born and raised…"

As the words left his mouth, a distressed sheen flitted across his face as the full weight of the situation crashed solidly into his conscious mind, and he leapt up, pacing angrily before her. "Dammit, Rory, I shouldn't be talking about his funeral, I should be talking about his future!" He ran his hands through his hair, continuing his tirade as he wore a path in the floor.

"I had it all figured out!" Tristan raged, angry, confused, emotional tears streaming down his face, "He was supposed to come back, you know, with one or two war wounds. Nothing serious, just something to show the kids. He…"

Tristan's voice broke as his rampant tears halted in his throat, "He was supposed to go back to school, get a job, be successful, and find some beautiful, amazing girl who loves the Yankees just as much as he does. They were supposed to get married, and me and Beau would fight over who would get to be the best man, and in the end, he would get frustrated and annoyed and yell at us both, and wouldn't be able to make a decision and have me and Beau duke it out in some stupid but elaborate competition." Tristan whirled, his voice faltering as the tears choked his ability to speak.

"He was supposed to find a house near us, and we would raise our kids and they'd be as close as we were. We would spend holidays together, alternating between houses and annually go on camping trips with the whole extended family. We would swap stories and reminisce about childhood and times at Amherst." Tristan paused, swallowing down his sobs, the helpless, defeated look back on his face.

"And we were supposed to grow old together, watch our children start their own families, all the while wondering how time had gone so fast. And we were supposed to die together after a long and happy life and be buried in the same plot…" His face contorting with unrestrainable emotion, Tristan whirled, knocking a vase to the ground with a livid swipe of his fist. Rory jumped at the sharp crashing of glass to the surface, and she looked helplessly as Tristan stalked across the room.

"Dammit, Rory! Why did he die? Why, dammit? WHY? HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE!" Tristan broke down, sinking against the pool house couch, retracting into a ball, sobbing unabashedly into his hands, the words bursting feebly from his mouth, his voice resembling a small child's.

"He wasn't supposed to die…"

Rory sat beside him, gathering him back into her arms, comforting him as best she could. Tristan's body shook with the weight of his burden, and he curled up in the circle of her arms, completely exhausted with his emotions, his hand still clutching the metal cuff tightly his his grasp.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here. I'm here."

Rory lay them down against the cushions of the couch. Tristan snuggled against her as though her embrace would shield him from the harsh reality of this predicament. Tentatively, she dipped her head down, laying her cheek beside his. Slowly, yet steadily, his sobs calmed as his breathing slowed to a light, even pace, and he drifted off to a land where his trials and tribulations failed to exist, a land where Brandon Knox was happily living, a land where dreams were the reality. Rory closed her eyes, drawing Tristan tighter against her as she joined him in that elusive paradise.

- - -

Tristan sighed, packing in another shirt into his suitcase. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he twisted the cuff still around his wrist as he exhaled deeply. Bracing his hands on his bed, rocking back on his heels, Tristan wiped a single stray tear that wandered down his cheek, and glancing over his shoulder, his gaze settled on a picture taken of him, Riley, and Brandon the spring break of their senior year. The three of them gushed with youthful energy and a zest for life evident from the moment frozen in time. Tristan was in between Riley and Brandon, a glass of beer held aloft in each boy's hand, and as Tristan stared at the photograph, his thoughts brought him back through time.

**_Riley cocked an eyebrow as a busty blonde sauntered past, dragging a hand across his chest, sending him a flirtatious wink. Turning back to his two friends, one corner of his mouth quirked upward in contentment, Riley practically bounced forward in a jaunty stroll._**

_**"I like Cabo…"**_

**_Brandon shook his head, his bright green eyes shining with amusement, "Please, Beau, you'd like a two by three shack if there were hot girls."_**

_**Tristan snorted, following the path of a brunette as gave him the once-over, his eyebrow quirking skyward, "Dude, what red-blooded male wouldn't? People do crazy things in close quarters."**_

**_Brandon chuckled, his tanned face showing amusement, "Sometimes I can't believe you two are surviving an all-guys school. This must be absolute torture for you."_**

**_"Says the guy who has a girlfriend." Riley scoffed, nodding as he acknowledged a flirty wave._**

**_"Had," Brandon corrected, "_Had_ a girlfriend. This boy's scot-free." _**

"**_Uh, sorry?" Tristan ventured, slightly alarmed at the lack of remorse. Glancing at his counterparts, Brandon waved off the sympathy._**

"**_Nah, it was over before it began…again." Brandon glanced around at the many attractive females eyeing the trio with unbridled interest, "Besides, being single's a bit more beneficial in this particular situation." As they sauntered along, he stared at his two best friends._**

"**_Wait, don't you two have a pair of special someones back in Connecticut?"_**

_**Tristan glanced at Riley, "It's…"**_

"**_Complicated…" Riley finished, grabbing three shot glasses from a wandering waiter, "Besides what happens in Cabo…"_**

"**_Stays in Cabo." Brandon and Tristan chorused in reply. Each taking a shot glass, the three friends clinked glasses together before throwing the liquid back. Plucking bigger glasses full of beer from another tray, Riley lofted his glass higher, appealing to his fellow companions._**

"**_Let's toast." Riley thought for a moment, "To friends. That we stay friends through thick, thin, breakups, broken hearts, and one-night stands…"_**

"**_To this week. That we make our wildest dreams come true." Tristan added, lifting his own glass in the air._**

**_Brandon thought for a moment before brandishing his glass, "To the future. That no matter outcome, _carpe diem_. That we make our lives extraordinary, regardless of how short they may be."_**

**_Crashing the three glasses together, the trio of friends drank deeply before a redheaded girl appeared before them, wielding a camera. Huddling together, their glasses held aloft, the three comrades smiled widely for the camera as a bright flash encompassed their vision, capturing the moment forever._**

"You know, if you keep staring at that picture, we won't be able to beat the rush hour traffic."

Tristan jerked, yanked from his thoughts as his attention snapped over his shoulder as the tell-tale thump of a dead weight hitting the floor permeated his hearing, and his gaze drifted over to the girl situated in his bedroom doorway, her hands on her hips and a duffle bag at her feet. Straightening, he gathered his composure, hastily wiping his eyes before turning a confused stare in her direction.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

Rory cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest as she made her way across the room to stand beside him, "What kind of friend would I be if I just sat at home twiddling my thumbs while you're going through all this?"

Tristan shook his head, "Rory, I couldn't…"

"You didn't." Rory gently cut in, laying one hand on his arm as she locked onto his haunted, hollow eyes, "I want to." Catching his nod of consent, Rory smiled. Seeing where his eyes returned their focus, Rory gestured to the picture.

"Is that him?"

Tristan nodded, plucking the picture from the nightstand. Holding it out to Rory, he gestured to the boy to his left, "Yep. That's Brandon."

Rory glanced down at the photo to the boy she had never met but felt so much for. His dancing green eyes twinkling with life, and Rory found herself drawn to his wide, laughing grin coupled with the deep dimples in the corners of his cheeks. He looked so youthful, so alive that it was difficult to imagine he was gone.

"That was taken spring break of senior year. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and was looking for some fun. Unfortunately, had he told us beforehand, we would have planned it accordingly, but I heard lateral thinking is a hot standby when it comes to spring break."

Rory smiled, "What did you guys do?"

Tristan waggled a cautionary finger, "Uh, uh, uh. What happens in Cabo…"

"Stays in Cabo…" Rory rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I know…"

Tristan chuckled sadly, glancing down at the photo before sticking it into his bag. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned to Rory, his eyes diverted down to the carpet, "So are you sure you want to do this?"

Rory slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, "Yes. I'm sure." Tilting her head back to look him in the eye, Rory gazed at him seriously, his eyes and expression downcast, the light that normally shined with his audacity dulled to a steady ache, "You really think I'd let you go at this alone?"

"I don't want to…" Tristan admitted, his voice small and childlike as he hooked his arms around her hips. Swallowing down his tears, he hitched a head down the stairs.

"C'mon. We should get going."

Hefting his bag and Rory's over his shoulder, Tristan ushered her out the door and down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, Tristan stopped suddenly, his posture tensed. Crashing into his back with a yelp, Rory frowned looking around Tristan's torso to the source of his sudden lack of movement. Riley dropped the pair of bags in his hands, meeting Tristan's eyes directly as Alex shifted nervously beside her boyfriend, dropping her own bag beside his. Tristan glared heavily into the pale gray spheres of Riley's eyes, the latter's gaze narrowed to pewter slits. Rory sidled off to the side, joining Alex as the pair of girls witnessed the edgy exchange between the men, ready to break out the bandages if need be.

Tristan and Riley each squared their shoulders, marching up meet in the middle. Rory fidgeted as the two males stared heatedly into the other's eyes, an unreadable expression on each face, hands clenched into fists at their sides. The girls braced themselves, prepared for the brawl that was sure to come. The heavy silence broke as Riley spoke.

"You good?"

Tristan nodded, his, head bobbing in a single, swift jerk "Yeah."

In a quick movement, both men wrapped the other in a masculine embrace, slapping backs shortly before turning to the girls. Riley clapped his hands together, stooping down to gather the bags.

"Alright, who's ready for a road trip?"

Tristan retrieved his and Rory's bags from the staircase, "Yeah, let's go already. We need to beat the traffic."

Alex and Rory exchanged confused glances, turning back to the pair, "What the hell was that?" Rory voiced the question in both girls' minds.

Riley shrugged, hefting the luggage over his shoulder, "TJ got his shot in. It's over."

Alex's brows drew together in perplexity, "Just like that?"

Tristan rolled his eyes, heading towards the front door, "What? Did you two really expect this would last long? Please. We're not girls. We get angry, hit, and make up. Done."

Rory leaned closer to her female companion, "Do you get all this?"

Alex shook her head, "Please, I don't speak 'dude'…"

Riley reared back, throwing out a foot to gently kick Alex in the behind, urging her forward, "Are you two finished? Because me and TJ really want to get there before sunset…"

The two females in the room exchanged exasperated glances before following their respective man outside to the two cars that were waiting in the driveway. Tristan popped the trunk of his Mercedes SUV, throwing the bags in the back before turning to Riley hanging out of the driver's door of his '67 convertible Mustang.

"So we're staying at Janlan's penthouse, right, TJ?"

Tristan nodded as he hollered back, "Yeah. We'll meet you there. You have the spare key just in case, right?"

Riley nodded, brandishing said key before ducking down into his car. Starting the engine with a roar, he peeled out of the driveway with Tristan and Rory right behind. In the confines of Tristan's car, Rory slipped on a pair of sunglasses, smiling as Tristan took her hand, squeezing gently, his own eyes veiled with a pair of dark squares. Tristan turned in her direction, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before turning his attention to the road, the car zipping down the open freeway.

- - -

Riley shifted in the driver's seat, casting a glance at his girlfriend, her chair reclined as she gazed up at the clear blue sky. Her brow furrowed, betraying the thoughts that ran through her mind, and reaching out, Riley grasped her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to brush a kiss against her knuckles. At the soft caress, Alex jerked, turning a surprised sapphire gaze in his direction. Riley quirked a small smile, his grief veiled behind the gesture.

"Hey there."

Alex relaxed, a soft smile gracing her features, "Hey back."

Riley ran a thumb over her knuckles, his attention diverted from the road for the moment, "Are you okay?" At the lengthy silence that followed, a low chuckle floated upward from Riley's mouth, "I'll take that as a no."

Alex shook her head, covering their joined hands with her free hand. Playing with the platinum band around his right ring finger, Alex sighed, squinting through the sunlight to meet his eyes.

"Are you sure my brother's okay with us?"

Riley's eyebrows lofted skyward, "That's what's been bothering you?"

Alex shrugged, "Should it?"

Riley chuckled again, his head shifting back and forth in amusement, "Hardly so. You should be more concerned that I don't accidentally drive us into the Atlantic Ocean."

Alex shifted in her seat to face him directly, an expression of indignation marring her features, "I'm glad you find this funny."

Riley reached out to gently cup her cheek, "Hey, hey, hey. I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that." Riley paused, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he gathered his thoughts.

"It's just…we guys don't function like you girls do. When we have fights, it's over within the day. No big deal."

Alex sighed, "That's not what I asked."

Riley absently scratched his chin, his fingers sifting through his hair, "Look, TJ reacted the way he did not because he was angry with us, he did it because he had just had an argument with Rory. It had nothing to do with us. He was emotional, and all the resentment that built up from whatever happened with Rory wasn't aimed towards us. He forced it to be and he needed an outlet. Unfortunately, I was the nearest outlet." Brushing a kiss against her hand, Riley smiled.

"He's fine with it. We just took him by surprise, and he wasn't sure how to react." Riley winked, nudging Alex gently, "Although, he takes a swing at me again, I'm swingin' back."

Alex rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair, "Boys…"

- - -

Tristan shifted in his seat, leaning one arm against the window of the SUV. Allowing his gaze to shift to Rory, he allowed a smile to snake across his face as he spotted her curled up in the reclined passenger seat, regarding him closely.

"What?"

Rory shrugged, perching her sunglasses on top of her head, "Nothing." Sitting up straighter, she stretched.

"Tell me something."

Tristan's glance flicked to her briefly before he turned back towards the road, "Like what? You already know everything about me."

"Not everything." Rory teased, nudging his thigh, "At least not everything from the past year. You know, what are you majoring in, how's California, have there been any girls? You know, that sort of thing."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head, "Okay. Pick one to start with."

Rory thought for a moment, "Um…what are you majoring in?"

Tristan smirked, "Guess."

Rory wrinkled her nose, "That wasn't the intent of this whole conversation."

"Maybe not, but it makes it more fun."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Okay…uh, Women's Studies."

Tristan snorted, "The class where they discuss how much men suck? Nope."

"Engineering."

Tristan shook his head, "Nah. Math was never my thing."

"Which didn't stop you from getting an 'A' in all your courses," Rory shot back. She exhaled sharply, "This is hard. I never thought you'd make it to college, forget about your major."

Tristan pouted, "Aw, Mar, I'm hurt at the lack of endorsement." Grinning, he gestured for her to continue, "C'mon. Try again."

Rory's eyes softened at the use of the endearment, and she thought for a moment, "Well, you've always been fascinated with the human body. Pre-med?"

Tristan laughed, "Nice try, but no. Geez, I thought you knew me better than this."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Tristan, knowing that you sashayed to Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy' down a public street freshmen year of high school as a result of a dare doesn't _quite_ constitute knowledge in your chosen college major."

Tristan laughed, the small flicker of mirth a welcome change from the lost expression he sported since finding the news of Brandon's death. A hint of his trademark grin dashed across his face, "Hm…daresay you've got me there."

Rory giggled with him, "So what is it?"

"Advertisement." Tristan declared, "With a minor in business."

Rory nodded in approval, "Well that makes sense; you always could talk your way out of anything, and you could probably sell fire to Hades if you wanted to."

Tristan shrugged, "That's what I'm banking on. I had an internship with a prominent ad agency last year, and they have hinted they want me back sometime if things don't work out."

Rory lit up, "Tris, that's great!" As the last half of his sentence registered in her mind, Rory frowned, "Wait, 'don't work out?'"

Tristan fidgeted, "Uh, yeah, well, with what happened with Alex and my grandfather's health not doing too well, I think I should be closer to home. I'm thinking of transferring."

Rory's head quirked up in interest, "Really? To Yale?"

Tristan shifted uncomfortably, "Not really. I don't think I could stand being on the same campus as Huntzberger. I was thinking more of a Harvard or Princeton deal…"

"Oh…" Rory's head drifted back down, her disappointment shining prominently through her sapphire eyes, "Well, that's great."

Tristan glanced in her direction, his eyes sparking with amusement, "Aw, don't look so downtrodden, Ror. Harvard and Princeton aren't that far compared to across the country like Stanford is." A smirk quirked half of his face, "Hell, Gilmore, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually miss me during the school year."

"I do." Rory admitted.

"Huh?"

Rory shrugged, "I did, you know, miss this. Us. I hated every moment we were fighting."

Tristan's mouth tightened as he cocked his head back, his eyes not meeting hers, "Yeah. Me too." Shifting his gaze over to hers, Rory could see the pain and remorse veiled beneath the spheres, and she took his hand, entwining their fingers. Tristan glanced down at their joined hands before swallowing hard, and Rory followed his gaze.

"I, uh…I wanted to let you know something."

Tristan frowned, "What?"

"I…sorta…y'know…kinda, uh, broke up with Logan."

Tristan fought the smile from worming its way across his face, "You mind saying that again? I don't think I caught it the first time."

Rory rolled her eyes, "I broke up with Logan."

Tristan's mouth tightened as he bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to throw his head back and shout to the angels surely singing the Hallelujah. Composing himself, Tristan threw on what he hoped was a contrite look.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Rory retorted as she rolled her eyes, sighing while waving a hand, giving him permission to proceed, knowing exactly what was on his mind, "Go ahead. I know you want to…"

A wide smile graced Tristan's features as his head flung backward, his fist pumped high into the air, "YES! SHE HAS FINALLY COME TO HER SENSES!" Throwing his head out the window, Tristan wagged his head, hollering wildly, prompting weird looks from his fellow drivers, "LORELAI LEIGH GILMORE HAS FOUND THE TRUTH OF LIFE: LOGAN HUNTZBERGER IS A JACKAAAAASS!"

Rory blanched, yanking on his jacket, hauling him back inside the car, her face beet red. Reaching out, she cuffed Tristan upside the head, "Tristan, you idiot! What the hell was that?"

Pouting as he rubbed the back of his head, Tristan quirked an eyebrow, "What? You have and he is."

Rory shook her head as it dropped down to her chest, "So not the point," she mumbled beneath her breath. Allowing her gaze to drift back to her best friend, Rory caught the shine of agony skating across his face as the moment of mirth passed. Tristan's eyes remained concentrated on the road, his knuckles white from the pressure he was applying to the steering wheel. As Rory laid a hand on his thigh, he jumped, turning in her direction.

"How are you holding up?"

Tristan snorted bitterly, replying with an aggravated toss of his head, "I'm not. I just think this is all a malicious nightmare, and sooner or later, I'm gonna snap outta it and he's gonna call me tomorrow, telling me he's coming home." Tristan smiled sadly, shaking his head almost wistfully.

"Brandon always had this grin on his face…you know? Like he knew this big secret and he liked watching you squirm trying to figure it out." Tristan's eyes glistened over as his memories brought him back to their high school days.

"He was always just…a fun, happy guy. He found amusement in the weirdest things. It's like he's stuck in the wrong world, you know? Because he found good in everything. It's like nothing had the potential to be bad." Tristan swallowed hard, "It was a bit of a surprise when he enlisted. He never seemed like he would be one to go to war. I mean, he was big on military science and he found that whole aspect of Amherst completely fascinating, but he wasn't one for confrontation."

"So why did he join?" Rory ventured.

Tristan's face softened, "That's what I asked him, and I'll never forget his answer."

**_Brandon glanced down at the ground, refusing to meet the two pairs of dubious eyes gaping at him. Tristan shook his head in disbelief._**

_**"Enlisting? You're enlisting, Knox?" Tristan repeated, unable to comprehend his friend's words, "As in the Marines? As in the 'First to Fight'?"**_

**_"As in _war_?" Riley chimed in, his expression of incredulity identical to Tristan's as he stared down the third member of their trio._**

_**Brandon nodded, rubbing a hand through his shaved hair, "Uh, yeah. I signed up last month."**_

**_"What in God's name possibly provoked you to do that?" Riley's pale gray eyes regarded Brandon quizzically as though he was trying to pinpoint any sort of insincerity in his friend's disposition. Finding none, Riley paced before halting in front of Brandon, rubbing his neck as he gazed anxiously at the shorter boy, "Dude, I really hate to state the obvious but people _die_ in wars. You just turned eighteen and you're willing to risk your life for…_oil_?"_**

**_Brandon shook his head, "But Beau, it's more than just oil."_**

**_Tristan exhaled deeply, "Knoxy, we're trying to understand. Really, we are, but why? You're one of the smartest here at school, and you can get into a good college really easily. Why risk all that for the Marines?"_**

_**Brandon sighed, "I don't know if you guys can understand…"**_

**_"Try us." Riley insisted, "Dude, we're your friends. We want to back you, but we don't want you getting killed just for the hell of it."_**

**_Brandon stuck his hands in the pockets of his casual uniform, "Look, guys, my family isn't like yours. I don't come from money, especially not old money like you guys. I'm here on a scholarship." He kicked at the ground, his eyes drifting down to the dirt beneath his feet._**

**_"My parents immigrated here from Greece where they were poor farmers. America gave them opportunity for a better life. It gave me an opportunity. It gave them freedom." Brandon shrugged, lifting his eyes to face his two best friends._**

**_"I guess I wanna fight for that same freedom, and you know…maybe give the Iraqis a chance to have that freedom, too." Brandon scratched the hair at the nape of his neck, "I wanna defend my country, protect it from threat, and I guess I'm also seeing this as giving back to America what it gave to me…" Brandon appealed to Riley and Tristan, his eyes pleading._**

_**"Look, guys, I want to do this. My family understands, but it wouldn't be the same if you guys didn't back me."**_

_**Tristan sighed, glancing away at the scenery of Amherst surrounding them, "I get why you're doing it, Knox. I don't agree with it, but I get it…"**_

_**Riley nodded, "Yeah, man. I mean, if this is what you really want to do, then we back you."**_

**_"One hundred percent." Tristan added._**

_**Riley nodded his agreement, "That's right, bro. One hundred percent."**_

_**Brandon smiled, his gaze shifting from Riley to Tristan, "Thanks, guys. That really means a lot to me."**_

_**Riley shrugged, "We always figured you were crazy, Knoxy, but this is solid proof."**_

**_"Just come back safe, Knoxy." Tristan cut in, slapping a hand on Brandon's back, "Just come back safe."_**

Rory stared at the man across from her, her eyes softened with empathy, "He sounds great."

Tristan's lips curved into a rueful smile, "You would've liked him. He always wanted to meet you. Said that whoever shot me down so badly should be commended for destroying my ego."

"Well, it was rather unbearable at the worst of times," Rory needled, gently shoving Tristan.

He laughed, "Which didn't stop you from pining for me during the year."

Rory's mouth fell open, "I never 'pined' after you!"

"Denial is not flattering on you, Mar." Tristan smirked, reaching out to flick her nose, "You get this really bug-eyed look and…"

Rory cut him off with a sharp slap to the arm, and Tristan grinned, his hand reaching out to twist the cuff around his wrist, "We did think he was crazy." Tristan mused, shaking his head in disbelief, "But he was so dedicated, so determined, that we couldn't _not_ back him." Tristan sighed.

"Every day he was gone, I swear I woke up thinking today might be the day that I get a phone call from his mom or his younger brother telling me he was killed. As much as I hoped that he would come back, and he'd be okay, I always kinda knew…"

"Knew what?" Rory ventured, shyly asking the unvoiced question.

Tristan shifted to face her, "Knew that one day, I'd get that phone call." Tristan shook his head ruefully, "I denno…call it pessimism, call it realism, call it whatever the hell you'd like, but a nagging feeling constantly persisted in my mind that Brandon wasn't coming home…" Tristan dropped his head, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

"They always say hope dies last. That no matter what happens, you always cling to that last shred of hope that it'll all be okay in the end." Tristan snorted, lofting his head to stare at the clear blue sky above them, "But in reality, hope dies a little bit each day. Your heart dies last. Your heart dictates when that hope dies, and then it dies itself." Tristan tapped his breast bone, just above where his own heart beat beneath his chest.

"And I think I just lost a part of mine…"

- - -

Riley exhaled, scratching his head as the car traveled along the highway. He jumped as a warm hand covered his over the shifter. Raising his eyes, they met Alex's across the car, and a slow, pensive smile spread across his face.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Riley paused, the question seeping into his mind, and he contemplated his answer, "I denno, Ali. I really don't." Running his hand through his hair, he leaned back against the headrest of his seat.

"I mean, Brandon…he wasn't supposed to die, you know? It doesn't seem fair that he doesn't get to experience life anymore. I mean, he was yet to fall in love, go to college, get a job…" Riley sighed, tears beginning to rim his eyelids, "I mean, the guy took pleasure in sitting out on a clear night, gazing up at the stars. Imagine how much he would enjoy falling for some amazing girl…" Riley smiled an indulgent smile.

"He'd love the rush whenever she's around. He'd relish the time they spent together, even if it's only for a few minutes." Riley's eyes glazed over in a faraway look.

"He'd cherish the spark of fire that would run across his body whenever they'd touch, knowing the source wasn't just lust but something deeper…something more…" Riley swallowed hard.

"I really wish he got to experience that."

Alex's eyes softened, "Have you?"

Riley rotated to face her, his eyes searching hers before they warmed to an affectionate sheen as his gravelly voice drew out the word, "Ye-ah…"

At his softly declared affirmation, Alex dipped her head, a slow smile working across her face. Riley returned her smile, the embarrassment prominent in the bashful sheen to his features.

"I can't say I know how you feel, Riley, but no matter what, I'm here for you."

Riley nodded, "Thanks…it's just…bringing back so many memories, you know? From when my uncle died."

"How did you handle it?" Alex ventured.

"I didn't…" Riley admitted, bowing his head, "I pushed everything away, you know? Like it never happened. Like one day, my uncle was going to walk through the front door showing me this new script he got from the studio, and we'd go over it together, and he'd ask for my input." Riley swallowed hard, "I started to go on a really fast downward spiral with no one to catch me…then the best thing happened."

Alex frowned, "What?"

"I stole a car."

**_Riley threw his head back, raising the bottle of scotch captive in his fist to his lips. The heavy liquor burned as it traveled down his throat, effectively numbing the twelve year-old boy from the harsh reality he currently resided in. He was gone. The only person who gave a damn lay six feet under in the national cemetery. He was given a glamorous, Hollywood funeral, his twin brother deeming the ceremony as a spectacle worthy for good publicity. The media had turned the solemn service into a circus, capturing photos of the mourning family. Riley had a feeling Chase Beaumont was pummeling the lid of his expensive mahogany casket in an attempt to be let out as his brother turned his funeral into a spectacle. With every camera focused on him, Christian Beaumont stood tense, feigning an expressionless mask of supposed strength and hidden misery while his second wife sobbed stage tears into a dainty lace handkerchief, leaving Riley very little chance to properly mourn. He was supposed to play the part of the stoic, grieving nephew too overwhelmed with anguish to show emotion. How far from the truth that was. As Riley hovered over his uncle's descending casket, his face remained impassive, the anger and rage boiling beneath the surface. He may have projected an outward appearance of composure, but deep down beneath all of his stifled emotions, all he really wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position and cry._**

"_**Hey, Beaumont!"**_

**_Riley glanced down from his position on the second-story roof, his eyes resting on the gang of older teenaged boys who looked to him for spontaneous acts of disobedience. Riley smirked. They were all a bunch of spoiled, rich kids with too much time and money in their hands. With everything at their disposal, nothing amused them so they all indulged in petty acts of insubordination. Lofting the bottle of scotch in salute, Riley inclined his head to the hovering group._**

"_**Boys…"**_

**_Winthrop "Bugs" Coughlin stepped forward from the crush, cupping his hands over his mouth to holler up to Riley, "We're looking for trouble. Know where we could find some?"_**

**_Riley smirked, hopping down the short distance to the ground below. Taking one last swig from the bottle, he tossed it onto the lawn, straightening out the leather jacket that hung from his shoulders. The world around him clear, a fact he attributed to his very high alcohol tolerance, Riley sauntered forward. The group fixed their attention on him, his mere presence commanding respect from every single on of them._**

"**_As a matter of fact, I do. The Burger Boy on Fifth and Elm is remodeling." Riley's face split into an impish grin, "What do you say we aid the process?"_**

**_Turning his back, he gestured with a hitch of his head, and the crush of boys followed, entranced by the boy who exuded such an easy confidence as he managed to draw their attention with a simple glance from his intense, gray eyes and a slew of eloquent, glib words that stemmed from his mouth with an effortless charm. As the group strolled down the street, Riley halted, whistling at a BMW convertible parked on the street, "Whew, that's a sweet ride…"_**

**_Bugs circled around the car, resisting the urge to run his hand down the sleek body for fear of the alarm, "Damn right. It's one of those brand new models, too." He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper, leaning towards Riley._**

"**_I heard those things are impossible to break into."_**

**_Riley scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at the claim, the mischievous gleam in his pale eyes flaring even brighter "Impossible is simply saying improbable. It's a nifty word for those without the imagination to work around the improbability."_**

"_**Are you saying you can do it?"**_

**_Riley quirked an eyebrow in the direction of the voice that piped up from the cluster, "Not quite. I'm merely saying I possess an extensive amount of imagination." His eyes swept over the chassis of the car, taking in the lustrous beauty of the machine with a practiced eye._**

"**_Doesn't sound like that." Bugs challenged, staring down at the younger boy, "You sounded like you said you could break into it."_**

"_**Perhaps." Riley replied offhandedly, his gaze continuing to study the convertible. His eyes dragged a lazy path to Bugs'.**_

"_**And if I did?"**_

**_Bugs smirked, "I bet you can't do it."_**

**_Riley leveled the teenager with his incredibly even stare, and the gang recognized the spark of amusement shining in his eyes at the challenge, "My good fellow, I must have misheard you. Did you just dare me?" _**

**_Bugs nearly wavered at Riley's steady gaze, "No. You heard right." Leaning in, he leered at the young boy regarding him with an interested eye._**

"_**I dare you to break into that car."**_

**_Riley propped his chin on a fist, feigning contemplation, "Ah, decisions, decisions…" A sly smirk quirked the corner of Riley's mouth, "Well, who am I to spoil the obvious pleasure you lot are deriving from this endeavor?" Riley glanced at Bugs, entertained at the prospect of this scheme, "Besides, it is a notorious fact that Beaumonts never decline dares…"_**

**_Bugs bristled at the implication, his face twisting dubiously. The older teen couldn't help but be amazed at the young boy, not even a teenager himself, and his blithe, cavalier demeanor. Nothing seemed to ruffle the kid, and he handled every situation they had managed to get themselves in with an incredibly imperturbable manner, a quick and witty retort always at his lips. Bugs didn't know if he should be annoyed or in admiration of the brash boy._**

"**_You're one confident bastard, Beaumont. How the hell are you gonna pull this off?"_**

**_Riley chuckled, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, his face a mask of poise and buoyancy, his words heavy with effortless conviction, "If it's one thing that I never leave without – besides my father's black AmEx card conveniently plucked from his wallet – it's this."_**

**_Shawn Hays leaned in, cocking his head at the slim metal objects snuggled in the depths of a thin case, "You carry a set of lock picks?"_**

**_Riley shrugged innocently, feigning ignorance, "What? Don't you?"_**

**_Bugs lit up at the budding discord this stunt could cause, nodding approvingly, "Alright. This has potential. Steal this car and drive it around the block." _**

**_Riley quirked an eyebrow, the blatant tedium prevalent in his expression, "That's it? Please, Coughlin, I can do that in my sleep."_**

**_Bugs narrowed his eyes, interested at the younger boy's offhand indifference towards his last proposal, "Alright, let's make it interesting. Two hundred up front. You pull this off, we'll each pay a hundred more. Re-park the car somewhere out in the open where it's deliberately displayed."_**

**_Riley smirked, his interest piqued, "That's more like it." Extending his hand, he glanced at each boy in turn, "My collateral, if you will…" Counting the bills slapped in his palm, Riley grinned._**

"_**Okay, boyos…just sit back and watch the magic."**_

**_The group complied, observing the youngest member as he ducked his head down beneath the body of the car, fiddling with the wiring for a moment. When his tousle-locked head reappeared, a triumphant grin splayed across his face, he touched the car without as much as a muffled whine of the alarm system. Twiddling with the key hole, Riley tinkered for a moment before the tell tale sound of the locks disengaging sprung through the evening air, and Riley tugged on the handle, opening the entryway with a flourish. Sliding into the seat, moving it back to fit his burgeoning five-eight frame, Riley poked his head under the dashboard, yanking a set of wires from the console. Touching a choice few together, he smirked as the engine roared to life, and shifting down with the skill of a practiced driver, he eased the car into gear, tearing off down the street._**

**_With an excited chorus, his entourage hopped into Bugs' pickup, roaring down the deserted street in hot pursuit of the rapidly disappearing sports car. Riley craned his head back, laughing as the catcalls and hoots trailed him from the bed of the truck. Skidding around a corner, Riley took off down the familiar street to the burger joint, disappearing from the view of his followers in the truck._**

**_The truck slipped to a halt, and the legion of boys clambered out, watching with unbridled amusement, excitement shining in each youthful face as they witnessed Riley haul himself up into the driver's seat of the crane situated near the roof of the burger place. Expertly handling the controls, Riley guided the strapped down car to the roof of the restaurant, placing the convertible atop the flashing neon sign. Exiting from the cockpit, Riley planted one foot atop the hood of the car, throwing his hands above his head, the adrenaline seeping from his veins as he exalted from the high of his deed, celebrating in the only way he knew how. The words of Walt Whitman flowed from his mouth as the inebriation he had curtailed for the moment sprung forth in a slightly drunken ramble. _**

"**O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;  
****Rise up – for you the flag is flung – for you the bugle trills,  
****For you the bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths – for you the shores  
****a-crowding,  
****For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turn-  
****ing;**

**Here Captain! dear father!  
****This arm beneath your head!  
****It is some dream that on the deck,  
****You've fallen cold and dead_."_**

**_Without bothering to open his eyes in anticipation of the rousing applause he was sure to receive, Riley bowed low, theatrically dipping to the imaginary audience. As he straightened, a solitary clap resounded through the air, and he groaned as the blinding spotlight settled on his frame. Riley rolled his eyes, flashing a charming smile to the officer below, barely batting an eye at the empty lot devoid of his friends._**

**_"Officer Donahue, how lovely of you to join me on this fine night. A night I wasn't aware you were on duty."_**

**_The weathered policeman strolled forward, his thumbs hitched in his belt as he looked up at the delinquent boy with unabashed amusement, "Riley Beaumont…when am I ever off duty?"_**

_**Riley smiled a tight smile, "I am yet to experience such a circumstance, that's for sure."**_

**_The officer crossed his arms, staring up at the boy who stirred up so much trouble in his neighborhood, "I must say, Riley, this is a new one for you…" Donahue gave a once over to the car atop the roof with an amused eye._**

"_**Hauling a car on top of a roof?"**_

**_Riley shrugged innocently, his hands stuffed in his pockets, "Burger Boy was remodeling. I figured I'd play the good citizen and contribute to the obvious effort for improvement in our fine community…"_**

**_Donahue shook his head, "By parking a stolen BMW on the roof of a burger place?"_**

**_Riley craned his head back, surveying his surroundings, "Adds to the ambiance…"_**

"**_And your criminal record." The officer retorted. Sighing, he waved at the young boy, "C'mon, Beaumont. Get down." Donahue rolled his eyes._**

"_**Judge Landors is going to be happy to see you again…"**_

**_Riley smirked, "Hey, you may refute otherwise, but Landors likes me. I brighten up his otherwise mundane day…"_**

Riley sighed, "I went down really hard, Ali. When my uncle died, it just seemed like no one cared anymore, you know?" He shook his head, "So I just buried everything down, smothered it all like it would all go away. But it didn't." Riley's eyes flicked in her direction.

"I lost the only person who caught me whenever I fell. So I kinda lost it myself. I started drinking, getting into more trouble. But when the judge gave me an ultimatum – military school or juvie for an indeterminate amount of time – everything just dawned on me. I was screwing up all so my dad could possibly do a bit more than give me a fleeting glance." Riley scoffed.

"I thought feeling his anger was better than feeling no emotion from him at all…" Riley ran his hands through his hair, "I used to care so much about what he thought, but when he did nothing but ignore me, I tried everything I could to catch his attention. I did anything to feel something other than loneliness, and I can't regret it…" Riley admitted, his eyes locking with Alex's.

"Not with what came out of it all…"

"You mean going to Amherst?"

Riley's face split into a wistful smile, "Yeah. It was a real kick in the pants, you know? I finally realized he was aiming for me to fail because of what happened between him and my mom. And since I was a product of that relationship, he wanted nothing more to see me fail so that he had something else he could hold over her head." Riley scoffed.

"So I thought what better way to piss him off than shove everything right back into his face?" Riley shook his head, "It took me awhile. I lacked the only person who bothered to tell me I was worth something. I figured, I had to go through Uncle Chase's death alone, I have to go through this alone, too."

Alex squeezed his hand gently, "You're not alone anymore, Riley. You have Tristan, Rory, and me. We're here to catch you, now. This time is different."

Riley nodded, a small smile flitting across his face, "Yeah. This time is different."

- - -

Tristan hummed softly to the radio as the scenery zipped past through the open window. The clear, blue sky winked down innocently at him as he continued down the highway. Glancing to his right, his eyes softened as they settled on the gently slumbering form of Rory Gilmore. Her brilliant blue spheres were closed, the long lashes fanning out against her porcelain skin, her mane of chocolate hair rippling down her shoulders. As her head burrowed down against a curled arm, her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and Tristan watched in fascination as her delicate nose wrinkled slightly and she lifted one hand to idly rub the tip. For a moment, he stared, mesmerized as she slept, all tensions erased from her beautiful features. Directing his eyes back to the road, he snuck another peek at the girl beside him.

From the first day she had barged into his life, Tristan Dugrey had it bad for Rory Gilmore; there was not point in denying that fact. She had thrown his organized, structured world into a tailspin, upending every single aspect of his life with one simple glance of those wide blue eyes. He had tormented her, unable to convey his budding feelings into something more cohesive. That proved to be no surprise given his family life. But her life was straight out of a storybook…sort of, but there was no doubt it was pretty good. Affectionate mom, loving town, doting boyfriend. Tristan shook his head. How he had despised Bag Boy…He supposed some of that revulsion attributed to the fact that Rory looked on his ungainly visage with such adoration while she had barely given him a fleeting glance, and when she did look at him, it was with unbridled repulsion. She had said she hated him, and really, he couldn't blame her. He hated himself then.

But then, he changed, and he came back. He had showed her who he really was: the Tristan beneath the façade of Chilton's playboy, billionaire king, and to his utmost, complete, and utter surprise, she liked it. She liked him. In becoming friends, Tristan felt something he had never felt before: affection. She cared for him without qualms, without reservations, just genuinely cared. He became her confidante, she became his rock, and they existed in a reality neither had any idea how it came to be. But that was beside the point.

Sure, they had their disagreements. Stubborn personalities rarely co-exist without some sort of confrontation. Neither knew the word "no," and backing down from an argument was without a doubt never going to happen. Most of the time, their confrontations ended in an obstinate stalemate with both refusing to acknowledge the other's perspective, but still, they became even closer.

Tristan and Rory, Rory and Tristan. That was the term the population of Stars Hollow had come accustomed to have tumble from their mouths. One was rarely without the other whenever Tristan was on a break. No matter what prior engagement his parents roped him into, he always found a way to see his best friend. To the rest of the world, it was plainly obvious that Tristan Dugrey was head-over-heels in love with Rory Gilmore. But that was the rest of the world. The object of his unrequited affections, however, was painfully oblivious. Rory Gilmore had no idea how much agony she caused within him. He had always wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with her, but he promptly perished the thought. This friendship was too important to him to jeopardize such a bond. He had come to depend on her for his only source of affection outside of his immediate family, and he clung to her like a life source. So, he decided he would wait. She would make the first move.

The last year had been hell. That was certain. Brandon off to war, Riley on the other side of the country, Alex knocked up and abandoned by the man who swore he loved her…and then there was Rory. Tristan hated to remember the previous year. With a choice few words, she had shattered the bond, the trust he labored so hard to achieve, leaving him empty and hollow. He had given her everything that night, laying out his heart on the line, and she promptly drove a sledgehammer through the core. He never thought he would be able to forgive her. But he did. And they had managed to emerge from the devastation to mend their relationship. And now, here they were.

Languidly, he reached out, his knuckles grazing one pillowy-soft cheek. At his touch, her eyes fluttered open, sleepily gazing at him through lowered lashes. A small smile curved her full lips, and she caught his hand in both of hers, entwining her fingers with his. With the comforting weight between her palms, Rory ducked her head down, falling back to sleep, Tristan's hand clutched to her heart.

As he continued to drive, the words of the song softly filtering through the speakers permeated his hearing, and he softly sung along, casting a glance down at Rory.

_Even the best fall down some times  
__Even the wrong words seem to rhyme  
__Out of the doubt that fills your mind  
__You finally find, you and I  
__Collide…_

Time and time again, no matter what obstacle obstructed their path to a peaceful existence, Tristan and Rory found themselves firmly planted in each other's lives, and as Tristan cruised across the border of New York, he felt the fear and anxiety creep into his senses as the car took them closer to what he knew lay ahead, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to face all New York had to offer. But one fact shone prevalent in his psyche as the tires tread over the border of New York: she was with him. After all this time, she was with him.

_Aaand, cut! Whew! Heavy stuff. Kinda deep and emotional, I know, but in all fairness, death is a pretty heavy deal. That is the end of the first half of this chapter. In the next chapter, we will meet up with some new faces as well as some previously introduced as Riley, Tristan, Alex, and Rory attend the funeral of Brandon Knox. I hope you all liked the flashback concerning how Riley got kicked into military school, and more flashbacks will occur as we get a bigger picture of this friend that obviously impacted the lives of our boys. Our main characters will take a jaunt around New York as they deal with the events, and we will also get some military school flashbacks that will surely be entertaining. Plus, Rory regains a bit of her confidence with the help of our favorite boys, Tristan and Riley. I can't promise you much, but I can promise that the next chapter will be a tearjerker! Stay tuned._

_Roxy_


	14. Because You Already Forgave Me, Part II

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own anything_

_Sorry again with the delay, everything is really hectic at the moment, and I had the hardest time writing this chapter. I have no idea why…So enough babble, more story._

_Just as a side note, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a remarkable man whom I was fortunate enough to have as a teacher my freshman year of high school. He is the man who encouraged me to pursue writing, and he gave me the idea of using the phrase Carpe Diem as a motto for life, and that motto was put to the test when he miraculously survived the tsunami that hit the coast of Southeast Asia last year. I thank God for the captain whose quick thinking saved his life and the lives of twenty others. Miracles do exist. If you want the full story, just leave me a message in a review or something…_

_On that note…Onward!_

**Chapter 14**

_Because You Already Forgave Me, Part II_

Tristan glanced upward, regarding his appearance in the mirror. His eyes were shadowed by the dark, hollow circles beneath his eyes, and his hair stuck even more haphazardly upward in its perpetually tousled state. His stomach felt empty as though the bottom had fallen out, and his heart weighed heavily on his breast, about to plummet to settle in the depths of his gut. He allowed his hands to drift to his collar, attempting to knot the tie dangling from his neck, but his fingers shook, fumbling with the tie as he found himself unable to perform the simple task and the strip of silk tumbled from his grasp.

"Here, let me help you with that…"

Tristan relaxed slightly as Rory appeared at his side, her gentle hands expertly arranging the stubborn accessory as her brilliant eyes searched his.

"How are you holding up?"

Tristan let out a breath, shaking his head, "I denno, Ror. I don't know if I can do this…" Tristan twisted his hands, negligently running his hands through his hair.

"I…" He swallowed hard, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I don't know if I'm strong enough…"

Rory paused as she tightened his tie around his neck, smoothing the collar of his shirt down. He was dressed in all black: black tux, black dress shirt, black tie, and the dark look on his face coupled with the dim luster to his normally lively eyes completed his matching emotional disposition. Straightening his tie, she ran her hands up and down his biceps in an attempt to soothe him.

"You are, Tristan. You _can_ do this. You're here, aren't you? That's the first step."

Tristan didn't answer, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Dropping his head down, he breathed out a deep, shuddering lungful of air, "This is _not_ gonna be easy…"

Rory smiled, chuckling slightly, "If it was, maybe you didn't care about him as much as you thought you did."

"Should I be feeling this lost?"

Rory glanced up into the deep blue spheres of his eyes, at the moment conveying a profound shine of desperation and vulnerability, "I don't know, Tris." She admitted, "I've never lost someone that close to me." Stretching up, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, one hand sliding down to tangle in his, squeezing reassuringly.

"But, no matter what, I'm here. I'm here for you."

Tristan's lips quirked upward in a grateful smile, the sheen in his hollow eyes communicating volumes to the girl before him more than his words ever could, "Thanks, Ror…"

- - -

Riley sank down into the mattress of the bed in his room in Janlan Dugrey's extensive penthouse. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he absently rubbed the back of his neck. As the sleeve of his dress shirt rode up, Riley's eyes settled on the name inked around his wrist. His thoughts drifted to a similar time a little less than ten years ago, the emotions coursing through his body akin to those he felt all those years ago, and the memories came rushing back.

**_Riley sauntered through the doors of the Beaumont family estate, the adrenaline rushing through his system as he managed to outfox Officer Donahue yet again. Bounding down the foyer steps to the living room, Riley halted as he spotted his father and stepmother, Anne, situated on the couch, Christian Beaumont's face contorted into a grim and somber expression._**

**_Riley cocked an eyebrow, regarding his father with a suspicious light. Christian Beaumont only put on that expression when the advertisement agency, Beaumont and Boggs started by the elder Callum Beaumont, lost money, "Uh, what's going on, Dad? The stocks take a tumble again? We're not gonna be middle-class citizens, are we?"_**

**_Christian's face soured as he shifted his eyes to his son, "Riley, we have some bad news. Your Uncle Chase is…" Christian's voice broke as he struggled to compose himself, and Riley's brow furrowed at the uncharacteristic flow of emotion from his father. Christian drew in a shuddering breath, "He's dead, son."_**

**_Riley wavered on his feet, his mouth dropping open, his throat constricting painfully. The world spun, flinging the young boy into the eye of the swirling waters, and Riley remained unmoving, struck dumb by his father's admission._**

**_"Riley? Riley? Did you hear me?"_**

_**Riley heard him, alright. All too well. The impact of his father's words sucker-punched him in the gut, and he could feel his breath leave his throat as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Riley shook his head, his voice abandoning him, and his face crumpled with the restrained emotion.**_

**_"No, no, Dad. You're lying. Uncle Chase isn't dead. He would never leave me! He isn't like you!" Backing out the front door, Riley did the only thing that entered his mind. He ran._**

**_His shoes pounded against the cement, each step taking him away from his reality. His legs churning with exertion, he traveled further from the cold, emotionless mansion of his father's house, away from the admission he had just heard. He ran until the scenery transitioned from suburban housing to the peaceful calm of the outskirts of the town. He figured if he ran far enough, he would out run the realization beginning to creep into his consciousness. He willed himself to keep going, to keep moving, but exhaustion set in. Allowing his feet to stop, Riley found himself at the bank of a large lake, encompassed by picturesque scenery. It was there that he allowed all the pent-up emotions to surge forth._**

**_Throwing his head back, Riley screamed up to the heavens, cursing the being who tore the only person he cared about from his life. He flung expletives up to the endless expanse of sky, condemning the God who held the power to rupture the only source of stability that existed in his world. He yelled and hollered until he was hoarse, his vocal chords strained with the exertion of his rage. Breathing hard, his energy exhausted, Riley fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Slowly, he lifted a tear-stained face, his eyes shining with more tears yet to be shed, crying out in a small voice, tinny like a child's, to the God above._**

_**"Why? Why did you do this? Why have you taken him from me?"**_

**_But there was no answer, and Riley felt there never would be. The only response was the gentle rustling of the tall trees surrounding the lake. Surrounded by the serene calm of his current ambiance, Riley mourned the death of the only person who cared, the only person who gave a damn._**

Riley jumped when he felt a pair of arms slip around his back, and he turned his eyes to meet Alex's. Slumping down, he relaxed in the circle of her embrace, leaning back against her as she pressed a kiss to his temple.

"It's gonna be okay, Riley. Just hang in there."

Riley nodded, maneuvering her onto his lap as his arms twined around her waist. Laying his head against her breast, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut as they rocked, the movement soothing him for a moment while her fingers gently sifting through his hair.

"I hate this, Ali." He mumbled, snuggling deeper into her hold, "I hate referring to him in the past tense…"

Alex stayed silent, unable to provide a response to his statement, not knowing what to say. As she held him, her gaze drifted over his head to his chestnut locks.

"Whaddya know," Alex mused, trying to alleviate the tension radiating from his tall frame, "Your hair's actually not falling all over your forehead."

Riley's eyes flicked upward to his brown locks, combed neatly away from his face. Morosely, he shrugged, "I thought I should look presentable."

"If Brandon never cared if your hair was its normal unruly mess, what makes you think now's any different?"

Riley pondered her question a moment before his mouth tightened in a slight smile. Reaching up, he ruffled the carefully-arranged strands, allowing them to sweep across his forehead in their normal fashion. A corner of his mouth quirking upward, Riley raised his eyes to Alex.

"That arrangement made my forehead look big anyway."

Alex pressed a kiss to his lips, extending her hand out to him, "Are you ready?"

Riley hefted a sigh, sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses to conceal his gray eyes, adjusting the dark pewter, almost black, tie that hung around his neck. "No. But I seriously doubt I'll ever be…" Grasping her hand, he steeled himself as he walked out the door, venturing out to his painful reality, and the event that solidified the harsh authenticity of his predicament. Brandon Knox was dead, and Riley was on his way to the funeral.

- - -

Rory Gilmore hadn't been to many funerals. Thankfully, many of her relatives were young…most at heart…and vibrant with a stubborn refusal to die. But just attending this funeral, honoring a man she knew nothing about besides the particulars, Rory officially swore off attending another for the rest of her existence. She surveyed the gloomy, despondent atmosphere, accented by the sea of black-clad mourners occupying every inch of available space. As the pastor continued on with his sermon, praising Brandon Knox, Rory felt Tristan stiffen as he sat in the pew beside her. Clinging tight to his hand, she squeezed reassuringly, and he relaxed for the moment, comforted by her presence.

Rory remembered the expressions adorning Riley and Tristan's faces as they entered the church. The first vision meeting the eye was an enlarged photograph of Brandon Knox, a wide grin splitting his tan face, his light green eyes dancing playfully. It was a moment captured at the pinnacle of happiness, displaying the effervescent spirit of a man who died so young with so much of his life left to live.

She had hung back, joining Alex as Riley and Tristan made their way to the crush of people gathered to pay their respects to in honor of their departed friend. She had watched as Riley and Tristan floated through the many people as numerous guys approached the pair. Handshakes and deep hugs were exchanged as Riley and Tristan held their old school mates close, whispering words of comfort in ears, the many young men seeking solace and strength from the pair. It was obvious that both Tristan and Riley were regarded as authority figures among the collection of men, and Rory witnessed Tristan's compassion and empathy as he greeted each person that came his way, the strength he no doubt struggled to maintain radiating onto his peers, and she felt an emotion stir within her, one that had lain dormant for a long time. As arms stretched upward, wrapping around torsos, Rory caught a glimpse of the same metal cuff around the wrists of countless members of the congregated people. Rory observed a distinguished, elderly man Rory recognized as the commandant of Amherst from countless journeys through Tristan's yearbooks approaching the duo, clad in a formal military uniform, and as soon as he was in range, Riley and Tristan each crumbled, clinging to the dignified man as he each gripped them solidly in turn, the tears already streaming down the man's weathered, dignified face. Although both had been pillars of strength and valor for their peers, it seemed as the commandant posed as the duo's own pillar as he consoled the distraught pair.

Throughout the first few minutes, Riley and Tristan had both kept their tears in check, stifling the flow behind hard, composed faces. But once they reached an elderly couple, the resemblance to Brandon denoting their relationship as his parents, the stanch façade both Riley and Tristan hid behind shattered immediately as the woman, her face benevolent and kind, drew each of them close, comforting them as only a mother could while they sobbed into her breast. As they pulled away, she cradled their faces between her palms, her own countenance composed as she spoke softly to each in turn, and Rory couldn't help but admire the woman's strength. She felt her heart reach out to the woman as she leaned back against her husband, elder daughter, and youngest son, clasping firmly to each of them, the entire family drawing courage from one another.

It had taken Riley and Tristan a while to muster up enough courage to finally approach the casket where Brandon Knox lay, but when they did, Rory's heart shattered as both Tristan and Riley broke down, their unrestrained sobs permeating sharply against the mournful murmurs around them. Tristan had wilted down, his shoulders slumped and despondent. Tristan's head dropped to his chest as he braced his arms against the casket, one hand covering his eyes as the tears burst forth. In stark contrast, Riley had stiffened, gazing down at Brandon's body in almost disbelief, his eyes haunted and hollow as if he didn't quite understand why they were there. Rory had glanced away, unable to bear watching the pair any longer. With every moment that passed observing the rapid collapse of strength that Riley and Tristan exuded every day to the mess of grief and sorrow hovering over the casket, Rory felt the wound in her heart break open a little wider.

Rory's attention snapped back to reality as Riley's name filtered through her hearing, and she watched as he rose from beside Tristan, pausing for a moment to gather himself, buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie, before making his way to the altar. He had composed himself from his prior breakdown in front of Brandon's casket, but Rory could still see he labored to maintain that equanimity as his steps carried him down the aisle. Halting before the Knox family, Riley laid a hand on Mrs. Knox's shoulder before proceeding on to the podium. As he lay the pages of his eulogy on the stand, Rory felt Tristan's hand grip hers tighter, seeking his own strength from her. Raising her eyes to the wooden dais, Rory waited as Riley prepared himself to speak.

- - -

Riley cleared his throat as he stepped up to the pulpit. Raising his eyes to the gathered of friends and family, he felt the words seize in his throat. Glancing down at the pages of his eulogy, Riley closed his eyes for a moment before setting the papers aside. Lifting the light pewter spheres, reddened and hollow to the congregation, he forced out a reluctant smile.

"Uh…hello, all. My name is Riley Beaumont." His gaze swept over the faces trained on his, listening to each word that flowed from his mouth. Running his hands along the panels of the wooden dais, Riley relaxed his grip on the podium.

"To those of you who don't know me, my profession is that of a writer." Riley swallowed hard, gathering his composure, "I, uh, had my eulogy all written out, and at the time, it sounded right. But standing here now, the words I seemingly put down on paper, thought out to perfection don't seem sufficient enough to convey the sentiments I'm feeling at the moment. I tried to communicate emotions through words that I thought were eloquent and genuine, but truth be told, I can't. I simply can't..." Riley paused, his features contorting into an expression of helpless confusion.

"Brandon and I attended the same military school for completely opposite reasons. Amherst was the last resort for me. It was either attend or go to juvie. Brandon chose to attend, working his way to a scholarship freshman year of high school. I was the first person he met."

Riley shifted on the podium, the tears beginning to spring in his pale gray stare, "I remember being completely taken aback by him the moment he stepped off the bus." Riley wiped the first tear that ventured onto his cheek, "Being in my third year at Amherst, I had grown accustomed to the types of people that came off the bus. Normally, they would trudge down the steps like a dead man walking, hauling their bags to registration with disgruntled resentment, their eyes fixated on the ground as if avoiding looking at the barracks and buildings of Amherst would prolong the shot of reality. But not Brandon." Riley halted the steady stream of tears dripping down his nose to the podium below, clouding his vision, and he didn't bother to wipe them from his face.

"Brandon bounded down the bus steps, the first one off the bus, his face alight with absolute elation. He seemed so amped, so excited to be there." Riley quirked a wistful, melancholy grin.

"When he exited the bus, he…stopped for a moment and looked around, just absorbing everything around him." Riley's eyes began to shine with the dual glow of more unshed tears and fond nostalgia, "And he inhaled deeply, taking in the atmosphere down to the air he was breathing."

Riley's voice trailed off as an expression of desperation flitted across his face, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath, combating the new bout of tears threatening to cascade down his cheeks, "When he came up to me, he stuck out his hand, and as I grabbed it, shaking it firmly, he looked me straight in the eye and said with a completely straight face, 'I wanna be the best here, and I think you're the one that can help me…'" Riley let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"I remember being so taken aback by that statement, but looking back on it, it just seemed like such a thing he would say. That was the type of person Brandon was. He put so much trust in people, so much faith that the human spirit was innately and inherently good." Riley raised his eyes, blazing with an anger and frustration that seemed to spur on the last and final dredges of his passion. Through the days prior to the funeral, Riley had experienced every emotion on the emotional spectrum that stretched him to the brink of emotional exhaustion. His final standby was to lash out in anger, "It doesn't quite seem fair that Brandon Knox should be taken away from us. Not when they aren't enough people like him. He touched many lives in his existence. The world was lucky to have Brandon for the amount of time it did." Riley's head dropped down as he took in a final shallow breath in, the tears weighing down his tongue. When he lofted his head back up, Riley's eyes expressed such a poignant grief, such a meaningful sorrow that every person in the congregation felt a fresh batch of tears worm their way up throats.

"It's too bad that time was so short."

- - -

When he was younger, Tristan wanted nothing more than to dig a hole through the center of the earth. His younger self had heard that if you dug far enough, you would end up in China, and the thought of being as far away from his parents and nearer to the nanny that had left him greatly enticed his four year-old mind. Putting his theory to the test, Tristan had gotten as far as a good two feet before his mother had found him knee-deep in her chrysanthemums and promptly freaked out. Needless to say, the consequential tongue-lashing she had given him as well as the added bathing was more than sufficient enough to curtail his desire to continue his quest to China…but in his young and innocent mind, he still dreamed.

But gazing down at the deep, cavernous hole that would serve as Brandon Knox's final resting place, Tristan's childhood dream of a tunnel through to the east rapidly diminished into an abyss of nothingness. The casket was closed, draped with the star-spangled banner of the United States in remembrance of the man who had given his life for his country, and his fellow Marines stood at attention among the mourners. Tristan watched as the pastor closed his eyes, making the sign of the cross over the flag-swathed casket, and Tristan felt himself yanked back in time to the nature-ensconced gardens of Amherst Military Academy.

**_Tristan groaned heavily, peeling his soaked t-shirt away from his body that had already begun to firm with the daily assault of Amherst's requisite physical training regime. He had only been there about five days, and already, the rigorous physical curriculum was starting to kick his ass. Staggering to his bunk, he fell backwards, plumping down onto the pillows, completely exhausted. He groaned, throwing his arms over his eyes. Laying there for a moment, Tristan exhaled deeply. Allowing his arm to flop down onto the mattress, he yelped as a pair of light green eyes stared down on him, and he bolted upward._**

**_"Christ, Knox! Hasn't anyone told you that kind of stuff is only permissible in movies? What the hell are you trying to do?"_**

**_Brandon Knox shook his head, an amused smirk gracing the corners of his face, "Easy, Pretty Boy. I was just checking to see if oxygen still flowed through your prone form. God knows we can't have another dead one on our hands. Nasty paper work…"_**

_**Tristan glowered at the boy who had welcomed him so readily, "Do you have a purpose for this slightly obscene leering, or do you just take a sick pleasure in annoying the shit outta me?"**_

**_Knox chuckled, "I'm leaning heavily towards the latter just to bust your chops…" At Tristan's pointed look, Brandon cocked an eyebrow, "Does a guy really need a reason to check up on his comrade?"_**

_**Tristan rolled his eyes, "Considering it's you asking that question and not someone like Fordham or Beaumont, I'll bite. Yes."**_

**_"Ouch, Dugrey. That burned." Hesitating for a moment, Brandon shook his head, "Listen, don't take it so personally with Beau, man."_**

_**Tristan snorted, "Please, the guy could double as a dog with the way he barks."**_

**_"Why do you think this class is the most disciplined?" Brandon challenged, meeting Tristan's eyes, "The most efficient companies function under the best leaders, and we found an undisputed one with Riley." Brandon reached up to tap the side of his head, "Think about it, huh? As much as you didn't want to, how many times have you actually done what he's said?"  
Tristan digested that fact. Brandon was right, no matter how disgruntled the command made him, he had always followed Riley's orders, never questioning the taller boy. _**

_**Brandon sighed, "Look, man, in his own way, he's only trying to make you better. For some strange reason, he likes you. He kinda sees you as a project. You know, someone who has potential."**_

**_Tristan scoffed, "If I had a nickel for ever time someone stated I had 'potential,' I'd have enough money to last me a good lifetime." Tristan gave an irritated toss of his head, "Look where potential landed me. In this shithole."_**

**_"It could be worse…" Brandon reasoned, and Tristan frowned. At his counterpart's dubious look, Brandon paused, "I came from a family of poor farmers who immigrated to America. Imagining juggling school, a sport, and two jobs just to help the family get by. I got lucky. Amherst's lacrosse scout spotted me during a game and offered me a scholarship. I can only hope that in the future, I earn a stable enough income to pay it all back." Brandon gesticulated in an attempt to convey his sentiments._**

**_"If you screw up here, you have Daddy's billion dollar bank account to regress to. I have nothing." Brandon shrugged._**

**_"Look, man. You can do whatever you want here. It's your prerogative. But think of it this way: do you really wanna be known as some rich punk who doesn't have anything to his name besides Daddy's money or do you want to make your name your own? If you really wanna change, or whatever, you might wanna actually try. It may not seem like it, but Beau is actually trying to help you. We all are. Just think about it, TJ…"_**

**_Tristan paused at the moniker. As a Dugrey, you were to be referred to by your complete name as given upon birth. Nicknames and abbreviations were out of the question. Proper and elegant socialites would never stoop to a level of a commoner by using a shortened form of their given name. Although his sister had a tendency to dub him "Tris," it was always the complete "Tristan" among his parents and grandparents, and Tristan could recount the many times he caught his dad flinching when referred to as "Greg." So, naturally, he smirked._**

**_"TJ, huh?" Tristan shrugged, "I can deal with that…" He paused, "You know, I always thought of a nickname as kind of a term of endearment among family. Sort of like an equalizer, something privy to only a certain few…" Tristan's mouth tightened in a wistful smile._**

**_"I never really had a nickname with my family…"_**

**_Brandon smirked, "Look, dude, let me give you a little heads up. Here, at Amherst, you're family. Your company is your family. We're your brothers around here. No conditions needed, no prerequisites necessary. You're one of us. Just give it time." Brandon rose, slapping Tristan on his shoulder, ignoring the grunt of pain the movement elicited. Chuckling, Brandon shook his head._**

_**"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. And when you do," Brandon smirked, "Hessler'll redefine pain all over again."**_

_**Brandon retreated through the barracks door, "See you around, TJ."**_

_**Tristan lay back, thinking over Brandon's words. TJ, eh? Tristan smiled. Hell, beat 'Pretty Boy.'**_

Tristan breathed in, remembering the time. That was the first time Tristan had ever felt like he was accepted. As soon as Brandon had made his nickname known, the rest of his company had taken the moniker as a sign that the new blue-blood was accepted as one of them, and they treated him so. Riley was still apt to bark and order, but Tristan had come to understand it was simply his own way of acceptance until Riley had actually confronted him, saying straight up he believed Tristan had the potential to change. Tristan closed his eyes; Brandon was such a vibrant life in many of his classmate's lives. To lose him was like extinguishing a part of them all.

Tristan jerked from his reverie as Rory nudged him gently in the side, and Tristan glanced up to find the pastor motioning him forward. Taking a deep breath to gather himself, Tristan approached the casket. He gazed down at the deep and endless chasm of grime, his eyes shifting back to Brandon's casket in all of its gleaming mahogany glory

"When Brandon went away to war, Beau and I had these silver cuffs made. We swore that we would wear them until he came home safe." Tristan paused, swallowing down the tears rapidly rising through his throat.

"But when he came home, it wasn't quite the result we expected." Tristan choked down a sob, clutching the ornately-carved wooden box tightly. Slowly, he removed his own cuff from his wrist, and opening the lid, he placed the bracelet into the box to rest with its fellows. Tristan glanced at the gathered crowd, his voice breaking with his restrained emotions.

"Brandon Knox will always be alive in our hearts. It's a small consolation to our grief and is hardly comforting as we all wish his spirit to live beyond such a constricting area into a more tangible world. But it's all we've got." Tristan exhaled, his sorrow failing to be expelled from his heart as easily as the air flew from his lungs.

"Brandon personified our senior class motto of carpe diem. He was different, and some can say he was better. He was part of the few of us who had enough courage to defend our country. To forget him would be a crime, and to waste life away like he refused to do would be an insult to his memory. Clichéd maybe, but Brandon would want us to keep living and to every day honor his memory. He will be missed, everyone here will attest to that, but he will never be forgotten." Tristan stepped forward, placing the box atop the casket. Raising two fingers to his lips, he reverently touched the coffin, his fingers brushing against the smooth wood.

"That we will never forget Brandon Knox and all that he stood for."

- - -

The wind gently ruffled the branches of the trees dangling over the cemetery, and as the sounds of vehicles carrying mourners from the gravesite faded away into the air, Rory shifted nervously, watching as Riley and Tristan hovered over Brandon's grave. Simultaneously, the pair squatted down on their haunches, one hand each gripping the ornate tombstone. Their heads bowed, the duo stayed there for a moment, reality seeping into their consciousness. He was gone. He was really gone. Rory suspected they had pushed that thought away, clinging onto the last vestige of hope that Brandon would burst from his mahogany casket, a shit-eating grin on his face, exclaiming in an exuberant holler that they were punk'd like it was some big, elaborate joke. But the punch line never came. Ashton Kutcher never rushed onto the scene, a portly gentleman wielding a camera puffing behind him. This wasn't some intricately-staged prank with a surprise ending. This was reality. This was the real world. And, as of today, the real world continued, reality continued, existing without Brandon Knox. Because, as much as Riley and Tristan longed for the contrary, Brandon Knox was dead. The sentiment was blunt, not bothering to cushion the blow it elicited, but Riley and Tristan knew in the core of their hearts it was true. And with begrudging aversion, they accepted it. Rising, the two best friends shared an embrace before turning to the two girls. Hastily wiping their eyes, Tristan and Riley paused for a moment. Tristan spoke first.

"Let's get outta here."

The two girls waited silently as they meandered down the path of the cemetery, away from the gravestones littering the lush grass. Rory snuck a peek at her two male counterparts, their eyes veiled behind dark sunglasses. She had witnessed every aspect of their characters over the years and had become privy to many of their emotions, but this emotion of utter vulnerability and despair had never revealed itself to her. Riley and Tristan had always exuded confidence and poise, rarely allowing themselves to be ruffled in any manner, and to see them this lost and susceptible slowly split open her heart. Rory observed their postures: shoulders slumped, heads bowed, hands stuffed deep into their pockets. From her glance, Rory found herself noticing remorsefully just how great of an impact this death had on the two men. It was as though they had no idea how to function any longer; the grief had consumed all notions of proper behavior, and as Tristan almost stumbled into a tree gracing the path of the walkway, Rory grasped onto his arm, gently steering him away from any future hazards, her brow furrowed. Far from the lengthy, purposeful strides of Tristan or the Riley's relaxed saunter, the two aimlessly wandered along the rock path towards the adjacent park, unaware of their general direction. Finally, both had given up on walking any further, choosing instead to slump against the nearest tree. They stayed there for a moment, neither one talking, simply basking in the aftermath of the service. Tristan let out a loud sigh, his chest heaving.

"Well, that sucked…"

Riley groaned his concurrence, running both hands through his hair as his head lolled down to his chest. Absently, he reached out, pulling Alex between his legs, "Well put, man. I'm officially swearing off funerals for the remainder of my existence." Laying his chin atop her head, his hands idly tangled with hers, stroking the skin beneath his fingertips.

Tristan nodded, "I don't believe this…this shouldn't be happening. Brandon shouldn't be dead…"

"But he is." Riley finished, scratching his head as he loosened the dark grey tie around his neck, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his matching dress shirt, "Dude, how is this possible? I _still_ can't believe it."

Tristan sighed. Tipping over, he deposited his head in Rory's lap, "I know. I can't either." His eyes fluttered shut as her hand came up to indolently comb through the strands of his hair, ignoring the shockwaves that raced through his spine at her intimate touch, "It's surreal, you know?" Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

"We knew he was going off to war, but we all just figured he'd come back."

Riley nodded, his thumb running over Alex's knuckles, "Yeah. We always feared he would be injured or something, but killed seemed so far."

"Or maybe you just didn't want to even imagine it." Rory ventured.

Tristan leaned his head back, meeting her eyes, "Huh. That might be it."

The quartet lapsed into a companionable silence for the moment before Tristan spoke again.

"Look, uh, I don't want this to sound bad but…" He hesitated, glancing at Riley. The taller brunette shifted, running a hand through his hair.

"A bunch of us from military school are getting together tonight at this pub and..."

Tristan held up his hands in anticipation to the protests he was sure to receive, "Now, don't think we're trying to blow you off or anything…"

Before he could go any further, Rory stopped him, "Don't worry, Tristan. We get it." She could see in his eyes that both Tristan and Riley needed this night alone. She and Alex had the ability to offer them comfort, but not at the extent the boys from Amherst could. They had known Brandon and who he was and could comfort Riley and Tristan in a way neither she nor Alex could.

Alex nodded her agreement, snuggling back into Riley's chest, "Yeah, you two have fun. We girls can handle ourselves…"

Riley chuckled, planting a solid kiss on her temple, "Yeah. We know that…"

Rory smiled at the interaction between the pair and glanced down at Tristan, his head in his lap. A small smile turned the corner of his mouth as he noticed his baby sister and best friend interact. Rory nudged him gently, drawing his attention.

"You're a good man, Bible Boy…"

Tristan laughed, kissing her hand, "Yeah, well, better Beau than anyone else. I have no qualms beating him up if he hurt Alex."

Rory teasingly cocked an eyebrow, "But you would for any other guy?"

"Hell yeah," Tristan snorted, "Any other guy doesn't know the immense physical pain I'm capable of inducing. Beau does."

Rory sighed, "For the life of me, I will never understand men."

Tristan grinned, "I sure as hell hope not." At Rory's questioning look, his mouth split into a charming smirk, "I'd hate to think about what you'd do with the information you'd be privy to."

Rory's mouth dropped open in an expression of mock incredulity, "Tristan Dugrey, are you insinuating I'd do something so malicious?"

"Yes."

Rory slapped his stomach, wrenching a guttural grunt from his lips, "This coming from the Chilton playboy, himself."

Tristan tossed out a smirk in honor of his former ways, "Hey, but I used my powers for immense amounts of pleasure, not pain…"

Rory returned his smirk, "So you think…"

"Ouch, Gilmore. That cut deep."

Rory patted his cheek, "They do say the truth hurts…"

Tristan fell silent as he climbed to his feet, offering his hand out to help Rory up. Yanking Beau up by the collar, interrupting his make out session with Alex, Tristan allowed his gaze to sweep over the tombstones protruding from the dirt a distance away, and his eyes settled on a sparkling-new marker, the dirt surrounding the granite marker newly-dug, the name inscribed on the stone painfully familiar, and the dates denoting the span of life devastatingly short. If only she knew the truth behind _her_ statement…

- - -

Rory closed the door behind Tristan, preceding a shove out the door. As Riley tugged him along the hallway, she could still hear his emphatic inquiries concerning their certainty of him and Riley being gone for the night. Sighing deeply, she repeatedly reassured him before the recognizable thud of Riley clocking Tristan permeated her hearing. Tristan's yelp soon followed as well as Riley's growled threats, and as the sounds of the friends bickering faded down the hall, Rory sighed again, plopping down beside Alex on the couch. Turning her head to the younger blond, Rory propped her feet on the coffee table before her.

"Has anyone ever told you your brother is a stubborn mule?"

Alex snorted, "If they can squeeze it in to the infinite amount of times _I_ constantly remind him."

Rory smiled. As the duo lapsed into comfortable silence, Rory glanced to the younger girl, "So…you and Riley?"

Alex couldn't stop the delighted smile from gracing her features, and she blushed, her head bobbing up and down, "Yeah."

"I'm glad for the both of you."

Alex nodded, "Thanks."

"So I guess Tristan's okay with you guys, too?"

Alex rolled her eyes, "Well, my idiot brother still remembers me as the five year-old who pranced around in a pink tutu, waving a wand, and granting people's wishes…"

Rory laughed, "I was surprised to hear Tristan was opposed to you and Riley. I thought he would be happy that you're moving on…"

Alex shrugged, "I'm not going to lie. It took me a long time to get over Logan, considering he hurt me really badly. I can't really blame Tristan, though. He's always been protective of me, and that protective nature increased tenfold after all that happened." Alex leaned back against the couch cushions.

"I never really expected to fall for Riley, either. He made it pretty clear the only relationship we would have would be strictly platonic in respect to Tristan. But after everything, how well he treated me, how fiercely he protected me, I really couldn't help falling for him, and I guess the same thing happened to him." Alex smiled contentedly.

"Riley was always there…It just fit." Alex's smile took on a sly quality, "Just like you and Tristan."

Rory's eyes snapped up to Alex's, her brow furrowing, "What do you mean by that?"

Alex only smiled wider, shaking her head, "Rory, you and I are considered to be bright people. I know you know what I mean."

Rory shook her head, "I have no idea what Riley's been putting in your head, but there's nothing between me and your brother." Her face took on a sober look.

"Not when he's resisting the urge to hate me."

Alex rolled her eyes, "Rory, you should know by now my brother could never hate you. He cares about you way too much to do such a thing. Yeah, you hurt him, and he was angry, but he never directed his hate to you."

"He should." Rory mused, "I more than deserve it."

"Maybe," Alex admitted, her shoulders lifting in a shrug, "But when you love a person, forgiveness comes much more readily than hate does."

Rory's gaze snapped to Alex's at the mention of love, but before she could question the younger girl, a loud knock sounded. Rory rolled her eyes, hefting herself off of the couch.

"It figures he couldn't even get to the street before coming back."

As Rory flung open the door, ready to chastise Tristan, her mouth flopped open for a completely different reason, and she could only gape at the man on the other side of the door.

"Logan…"

- - -

Riley sat back, propping one dress shoe on his knee as he scratched the skin beneath his dress shirt. His eyes swept over the gathering of four guys, including Tristan, the closest of their many classmates to Brandon Knox. To his left was Michael Ross, a dedicated cadet who graduated a year behind the rest of them. Beside Michael sat Jimmy Strong and Kent Lee. Riley shook his head. Back at Amherst, the trio of Eric Fordham, Jimmy Strong, and Kent Lee had run the administration as well as the battalion staff ragged with the trouble they caused, different from the mischief of Tristan and Riley, but time had disregarded all grudges and the six of them gathered at the pub. Throughout the year, they had been scatted throughout the United States, studying in their respective universities. Michael Ross had just finished his first year at Cornell, Jimmy Strong had come from Washington where he studied at Georgetown, and Kent Lee was ready to graduate early the following year from the University of Pennsylvania. They had been on opposite sides of the country, and the last time the five of them had been in the same vicinity was two years ago at Tristan, Riley, Kent, and Jimmy's graduation. Riley glanced down at the glass of beer before him. It was a shame Brandon's death had to be the thing that brought them back together.

Tristan glanced at Michael Ross, a small smile across his face, "So how was Amherst after we all left?"

Michael shook his head, rolling his eyes, "Boring. After you and Beau graduated, there was absolutely no entertainment value. Face it; everyone loved the latest scam you two pulled." He chuckled, glancing over at Jimmy and Kent.

"Plus, we couldn't hear your latest punishment to Jimmy and KL."

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "You serious, Mike? No pranks, no nothing?"

"Nope." Michael scoffed, "No one had the balls. Even Hessler mentioned it. Grumbled that someone ought to pull something 'cause he was getting bored."

Tristan chuckled, "Hey, you guys remember the time when we swiped that tape of Hessler dancing in leather pants to Madonna?"

Jimmy Strong grinned, "Hell yeah. Knoxy hotwired the school announcements so instead of seeing Todd Coker's simpering, ass-kissing face, we saw Hessler's ass…" Jimmy smirked, "Not too bad for an old guy. You couldn't even see the stick perpetually stuck up it."

Kent Lee nodded, "Yeah, man. That was classic. Me and Fordham were in Hessler's class. Dude turned fifty shades of red. He knew it was you two."

Tristan grinned, "Ah, good times. Speaking of Fordham, where is Eric, anyway?"

Jimmy shook his head sadly, "He couldn't make it…He's all the way in Australia handling something for his PR firm." Leaning back in his chair, he nudged Michael with an elbow.

"Making his millions and basking in Aussie babes…"

Riley shook his head, "Geez, who woulda thought Fordham would be so successful?"

Kent chuckled, "Same person who thought all of us would be friends at the end of high school. We hated each other."

Tristan nodded his affirmation, "Yeah, but look at us now. We're all so close."

"But it doesn't feel the same without Brandon…" Michael softly mused, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Heads slowly lolled down around the table, the sad nostalgia wafting through each and every one of them. Tristan allowed a small smile to spread across his face.

"Hey, do you guys remember when we lost that sectional lacrosse championship against Groton Prep junior year?"

Jimmy snorted, "Do I ever. They had that one huge striker. That dude was _not_ a high school student. He looked like he was out of college…"

Tristan laughed, "Do you remember Knoxy's reaction?"

Riley nodded, "I do…he had none. When the final whistle blew, he just stood there, looking at the scoreboard. He was there for a full three minutes before he turned and walked to the locker room."

Jimmy chuckled, "He didn't speak to anyone as he was packing his stuff up. That was the longest time Brandon ever stayed silent. The only time he spoke about that game was the end of the year sports' banquet."

Kent threw his head back, the laughter ringing through the bar, "I think we all remember that speech."

Jimmy shook his head, "Brandon pretty much let everything out in that one."

Tristan grinned, "Yep, how long was that rant?"

Jimmy paused, thinking for a moment, "I denno…I stopped listening about the third minute…"

Riley snorted, "You guys are horrible."

Michael responded with a slight shove to Riley's shoulder, "Look who's talking, Mr. Inspirational."

The four men drifted into silence as the moment of mirth passed, and they regressed back into the grief of the aftermath of Brandon's passing. It was awhile before someone spoke again.

Jimmy glanced down at the half-filled mug of beer before him, idly swirling the golden liquid around the glass, "You know, Knoxy said something weird to me once. It was completely random, and I didn't think about it then, but now…I can't get it out of my head."

Tristan's brow furrowed, "What was it?"

Jimmy furrowed, his brow furrowed as the words he had stored away a long time ago drifted forward, "'A man can be destroyed but never defeated.'"

A series of nods went through the table. "Yeah. He said that to me, too." Michael remarked, "What did he mean by it?"

"It's a quote from Hemingway."

Four heads turned to Riley as he tossed back the last of his beer, "It's in his novel The Old Man and the Sea." Fingering the rim of the empty glass, Riley glared hard into the clear base as if the foam dredges at the bottom would ease his misery.

"In theory, it states that a man can always pick himself up from the hardest of hardships. He can endure his own self-destruction, but as long as he holds onto hope, and any semblance of it, he will never be defeated." Riley lifted his head to gaze at his companions.

"It's all about inner strength…and the will to endure."

- - -

"Logan, what are you doing here?"

Running a hand through the tousled hair made possible by copious amounts of hair product, Logan shrugged sheepishly, stuffing his hands deep into his designer sport coat.

"Uh, I was in the neighborhood, and…"

He trailed off at Rory's reproving glance, and his gaze drifted down towards the ground, "I just…I really needed to talk to you, Ace."

Rory's brow furrowed, "About what?"

"Us."

Rory sighed, her hand braced on the doorway barring Logan from entrance, "I'm pretty sure we covered all the bases when I broke up with you, Logan."

Logan tensed, his eyes searching Rory's, "So that's it? We're over? Just like that."

Rory cocked an amused eyebrow, "Yeah, Logan. Just like that. I'm sure one of your bimbos can attest to the simplicity of it all." Mournfully, she shook her head.

"You screwed up, Logan. You screwed up really bad, and I'm tired of wallowing in the self-pity induced by your father. It was fun while it lasted, but…" Rory shrugged, "I can't take that kind of deception like that."

Logan bristled, "When have I deceived you, Rory? Just because I didn't tell you about one little incident?"

"'One little incident?'" Rory echoed, her tone heavy with incredulity, "You call fathering another woman's baby 'one little incident?'"

"It's. Not. Mine." Logan bit out through clenched teeth.

"Really?" Rory implored, crossing her arms over her chest, "Tell that to the mother."

Logan blanched, "What?"

Stepping back from the doorway, Rory allowed Logan a glimpse inside the suite, the prominent figure of Alex Dugrey curled up on the couch centered in his line of vision. As soon as his dark eyes locked onto the pale blue spheres he once knew so well, Alex stiffened, but held his gaze determinedly. Logan's face eased into an affable smile, one she knew so well.

"Alex, love, long time no see…"

Tensed, Alex met his eyes directly, the resolution heavy in her icy eyes, "I wouldn't quite say that."

Logan's face contorted into a knowing leer, "So, how are the dorms? Are they similar to the ones I had freshmen year? You can note the similarities, right? How many times were you at mine?"

Alex's eyes narrowed, "They're pretty much the same. Of course, you wouldn't know considering your present lodgings. By the way, how's hell this time of year?" Tearing her gaze from the boy who had broken her only a year ago, Alex turned to Rory.

"Rory, I'll be in my room. You can get me when you're finished."

Rory smiled at the soft but confident tone in Alex's voice, and she nodded, "Okay, I'll see you in a few."

As soon as Alex disappeared down the hall, Logan coughed, the sneer falling from his face, "Not very accommodating, is she?"

Rory snorted at his tact, "Can you blame her?"

Logan shrugged, an air of nonchalance surrounding his features, "I would think a year or two would expunge any digressions on my part."

"Not when you rip her heart out and do a Mexican hat dance over it…" Rory countered, leaning against the doorway.

"How did you know I was here, anyway?"

Logan scratched the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly, "I, uh, called your grandmother, and she mentioned you were in New York."

"You called my grandmother?" Rory shook her head, "Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

"I needed to talk to you." Logan protested as a dark look overcame his face, "But if I knew you were here, cuddling up to Dugrey, I wouldn't have bothered."

Rory's face darkened as well as she straightened, "How dare you, Logan! You think that's what I'm doing? That Tristan swept me away for a romantic weekend?"

"Well, isn't it?"

"NO, YOU IDIOT!" Gathering her composure, Rory glared at her ex-boyfriend, "Just so you know, I'm here supporting Tristan since he attended the funeral of his friend who died fighting in the war." Squaring up to Logan, Rory tilted her head.

"Does that sound like a romantic getaway to you?"

Logan had the grace to look ashamed as he shuffled at the doorway. Open mouth; insert foot, "Look, Ace…"

"I think you're done, Logan." Rory cut him off sharply, "If you want to talk, it can wait until I get back to Hartford. Now's not the time."

"Uh, okay." Logan's voice burst forth tinny and meek, "I'll call you."

Rory didn't respond as she shut the door, and backing up against it, she exhaled deeply, shaking her head in disbelief. That was the man she dated for a good six months, but after seeing him simpering at her doorway, knowing the lies he spewed from his mouth, she wasn't quite certain who was the real Logan. Hauling herself off the entryway, she padded to Alex's room. Bracing herself against the doorway, she gazed down at the younger girl.

"Are you okay?"

Alex paused before nodding, a heavy sigh rocking through her body. Tilting her head, she met Rory's inquisitive eyes, "Is it bad that all I really wanted to do was deck him one?"

Laughing, Rory settled down on the bed beside the younger Dugrey, "No. To be honest, I really wanted to also."

Alex fiddled with the fabric of the bedspread, "I thought it would be hard to see him again, you know? After everything. That was the first time he's really met my eyes, and I remembered looking into his and seeing the world…" Alex barked out a rueful chuckle.

"Funny how things change."

Rory nudged Alex's shoulder gently, bringing the younger Dugrey's eyes to meet hers, "Tristan and Riley would have been proud of you, you know? Holding his eyes and not letting him get to you…Even managing a few comebacks…"

Alex let out a small laugh, "Yeah, well, I guess I stopped pitying myself. Riley helped me with that…" Reverting her eyes, she sighed, "I haven't said all I've wanted to say to Logan, but I think I'm getting there healing-wise."

"That's great."

Alex shook her head ruefully, "You know, there was a time – right after everything happened – that I couldn't even think about him without calling Riley? I thought time would heal everything, but the pain extended to my freshman year." Alex sighed.

"When I ran into him, everything rushed back to the surface. The hurt was just as strong as if it happened the day before." At Rory's inquiring look, Alex nodded her affirmation, "Yeah. Yale's pretty big, but we still managed to find each other…"

**_"Oh, hey, Alexandra Dugrey…"_**

_**Alex froze as the familiar husky tenor of Logan Huntzberger's voice wafted in her direction. It was the same voice that used to whisper words of love into her ear as his mouth drifted from her neck to that spot below her earlobe. It was the same voice that washed over her, tinged with affection. But now, that voice cut through the surrounding people heavy with malice and animosity. It took all her courage to lift her head, gazing into the deep brown eyes of Logan Huntzberger. Approaching her, he cocked his head, his eyes panning over her body.**_

_**"Hmm…if it isn't my lovely ex-lover. How's the bun in the ole oven?"**_

**_Alex stiffened at his spiteful snarl, knowing he was unaware of the current state of his child, and her eyes drifted down to the ground. Logan smirked, turning to his cronies flanked on either side of him. _**

_**"I honestly can't believe the gall of this girl, fellows. Insisting the bastard child's mine and even asking for some financial assistance…" Logan shook his head disgustedly.**_

_**"The nerve…"**_

_**Catching the look streaking along Alex's face, one of Logan's friends shifted uncomfortably, tapping the blonde on the shoulder, "Hey, c'mon now, mate. That's enough. You've had your fun. Just leave her alone now, eh?"**_

**_Logan responded with a toss of his head, "You know what, Finn, you're right. Lexi, here probably has some other millionaire she has to hit up for money." Playfully, he leaned in, chucking her chin._**

_**"Just going down the list, huh, Lexi?" Smirking, he turned, departing with a flirty waggle of his fingers, "See you around, babe."**_

**_Alex watched his departure, her hurt seizing all ability to move. As the trio of guys departed, the dark-haired guy who spoke up for her glanced over his shoulder, his face conveying his apologies, and closing her eyes, she wished she could vanish from the spot. How she managed to stumble back into her dorm room, Alex had no idea. Whipping out her cell phone, she dialed the familiar numbers. After a few rings, Riley's voice floated over the phone, and taking a deep breath, she relayed her story, fighting to hold back the tears. Immediately, Riley's voice transitioned from a light-hearted timbre to a low growl._**

**_"He what? No, no. Don't do anything. Just stay where you are, I'll be right over. Everything's gonna be okay. I'll be there in five minutes."_**

**_Alex sank down onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. She had hoped she wouldn't run into him, considering how big Yale was. Nothing would defer her from attending her dream school, she had been sure of that. But at this moment, the only thing she was sure of was that the wound left from Logan Huntzberger was still very, very fresh, and she had no idea how she was going to survive freshman year knowing she could run into him at any given time…_**

Rory blanched, unable to believe the words that had come out of Logan's mouth that day, "He really said that?"

"Yeah. And it hurt." Alex wiped a tear that had ventured onto her cheek, "You know, there are a lot of guys like Logan Huntzberger, but there aren't many like Beau or Tristan. It took me awhile to see that, but I know one thing." Alex allowed her gaze to drift up to meet Rory's directly.

"Guys like that are hard to find. And now that I found mine, I'm not gonna let him go."

Rory averted her eyes, the wheels turning in her head, processing Alex's statement. Her hand drifted up to the silver ring hanging from the chain on her neck. She had almost forgotten it was there. Threading a finger through the band, she contemplated Alex's words, thinking about a certain blonde-haired socialite and the feelings beginning to bloom again beneath the surface of her heart.

- - -

As a kind waitress approached their table, informing the group of guys it was closing time, Tristan sighed heavily, gulping back the last vestiges of his beer. Hauling himself to his feet, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, hoping the two faces of Beau would unify into one, Tristan grabbed his suit jacket, shoving his arms through the sleeves. Glancing around the small, intimate pub, he wished nothing more than to stay in the humble surroundings, reminiscing with his friends, recalling times where everything made sense and Brandon was alive. Because Tristan knew the moment he ventured over the threshold of the pub, reality would strike his breast, deep within his heart, reminding him Brandon Knox was dead.

Around him, his four companions had already begun their farewells, exchanging manly embraces, slurred send-offs, and firm handshakes, promising to keep in touch. As the final man, Michael Ross, departed, Tristan and Riley stumbled out to the front of the pub, plopping down on the curb, grasping their final bottles of beer.

Riley exhaled heavily, stifling a burp as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, "Is it bad to say I enjoyed that?"

Tristan languidly allowed his head to shift back and forth, the movement staggering him for the moment, "No. I don't think so." He raked his fingers through his ruffled hair, "It was nice reminiscing about the good times. You know, all the stuff we did with Brandon. Still kinda hurt though…"

Riley glanced up at the sky, taking in the stars dotting the endless night abyss, "I'm glad we did this."

Tristan nodded, smiling tightly, "Yeah. Me, too. It was…closure. He's dead, but we're always gonna remember him."

Riley chuckled, "Yep." Glancing down at the expanse of skin revealed as he stretched out his arms, Riley gestured to his wrist, where his uncle's name was inscribed, "I gotta add another line to this tattoo…"

Tristan sighed, "Yeah, same here."

"He was awesome, wasn't he?" Riley murmured, storing the fond memories of their departed friend and comrade in the back of his mind.

"Yep," Tristan affirmed, allowing a smile to spread across his face, "There's no one like Knoxy."

The two friends lofted their beer bottles to the night chasm twinkling overhead, their voices uniting in a strident dedication.

"TO KNOXY!"

Tilting their heads back, both downed the alcohol. In their inebriated states, both men lost their balance on the curb, toppling backwards to land spread-eagle on the sidewalk, the bottles sliding from their grasps. The night air screamed silence before a solitary belch cut through the air, followed by the giggles in a timbre only a thoroughly intoxicated male could attain.

- - -

Curled up on the couch of the entertainment room, both girls jolted upright as a loud crash echoed through the condo followed by muffled laughter and the dull thump of fist on flesh. As the sounds of scuffle grew louder, they met up at in the hallway, Alex wielding a tennis racket and Rory brandishing a golf club. Flicking on the lights to the living room, both girls lowered their weapons as they caught Tristan and Riley situated on the floor, Tristan holding Riley's head in a headlock as they tussled on the floor. Alex voiced the question hanging in the air.

"What the hell is going on?"

At the exposure to the harsh light, both men winced, releasing each other as they scrambled to shield their eyes from the light. From his sprawled position, Riley grunted, waving wildly, his pewter spheres squinched shut.

"Ugh! Dude! Turn them off!"

Tristan groaned his concurrence, "Seriously! Light and intoxication do not mix. Please!"

Sighing heavily, Rory reached out, dimming the lights as she and Alex gazed down at the two males. Shaking her head, Rory dropped the golf club, reaching down to haul Tristan to his feet, the scene before her painfully familiar.

"They're drunk."

Alex cocked an eyebrow, "You would expect anything else?"

Rory rolled her eyes, "No, but luckily, they're not smashed enough to pass out." Hitching her head to the hallway, Rory began to half carry, half drag a stumbling Tristan in the direction of the bathroom.

"Dump them in the shower and turn the water on cold."

Alex quirked a smirk, "You sound like you've done this before…"

"I have." Rory grumbled, halting for a moment as Tristan regained his footing, "A certain Aussie friend of mine has a habit of drunkenness."

"Finn?" Alex whispered, meeting Rory directly in the eyes.

"Yeah, Finn…" Returning her attention to the task at hand, Rory lugged Tristan into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Closing the door, she slid the suit jacket from his broad shoulders, letting the coat fall to the floor. Removing the tie from his neck, she unbuttoned his dress shirt, yanking it from his pants. As her palms slid up his torso, taking his white undershirt up and over his head, she took a moment to take in his sculpted chest and abs, allowing her gaze to linger on his chiseled pectoral muscles and defined six-pack. Yanking her eyes from the sight before her, Rory continued on her task, her fingers undoing the belt at his waist, and she jumped as his hands drifted up, catching her hands at the wrist.

"Knew you were just trying to get me naked, Mary."

Rory paused at his voice, husky and guttural from the alcohol weighing down his tongue, and glancing up into his eyes, startlingly clear as they gazed down at her with an almost unnerving intensity, she found her breaths coming rapidly, matching the brisk tattoo of her heart against her breast.

"Don't flatter yourself, Tris. I'd just rather you don't pass out before your pilgrimage to the porcelain gods."

Tristan's lazy, lopsided grin tilted his mouth as he let out a throaty chuckle, "Well, considering I've been neglecting habitual jaunts, I'm pretty sure the gods won't notice if I forget one more time."

Her eyes narrowing at his quick response, knowing full-well Tristan's in an intoxicated state was never quick on the uptake, Rory regarded her best friend with slight suspicion , "You're not really that drunk, are you?"

Tristan's mouth quirked upward in a smirk as he sifted a hand through his blonde strands, "Drunk enough to know I'll have a massive hangover tomorrow morning, but no. Not wasted enough to be completely oblivious in my inebriated stupor."

"Not wasted enough to lack your wit, either." Rory chided. Gazing up into his icy eyes, Rory paused for a moment, watching the emotions swirl beneath them. Noticing her fingers were still hooked in the waistband of his pants, Rory jerked back to reality, quickly removing them, and stepping back from Tristan and his almost intimidating figure.

"I'll, uh, let you finish up, and I'll bring up some water for you."

Tristan smiled, nodding his head, abruptly stopping before he tumbled into the shower, "Thanks." As her back exited his bathroom, Tristan gazed after her, unsure of the spark he caught flickering behind her brilliant eyes.

- - -

Riley groaned as his head hit the cool mass of his bed. Lying sprawled amongst the sheets, he turned his face into the pillow as Alex slid the covers up to his shoulders. Feeling the warmth surround him, he opened a bleary eye to focus on his girlfriend through the wayward strands of hair venturing onto his forehead, and a small, amorous smile wormed across his face. Reaching out, he grasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"I love you, Ali."

Alex jerked at the sleepy declaration mumbled into the cushions of Riley's pillow, and her eyes flew to the halo of brunette hair atop the bed. As Riley's torso rose and fell in a slow, gentle rhythm, Alex realized he had fallen asleep, his hand still clutching hers. Dipping her head down, a smile of her own gracing her features, Alex ghosted a kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair from his forehead. Backing away from the bed, Alex gazed down at the man who had righted the wrongs in her life, and she reciprocated his declaration in softly whispered appeal.

"I love you, too, Beau."

- - -

Tristan groaned as he tottered from the bathroom, collapsing on his bed. Gratefully accepting the glass of water from Rory, he downed the liquid before toppling onto the covers.

"Guh, I feel like one of those top spinner thingies. The world keeps rotating around me."

Rory laughed, joining him on the bed, "How much did you have to drink?"

Tristan grinned, "I lost track after five..."

Rory giggled, "Well, no wonder. I'm surprised you could still count after that…I should let you sleep." Lightly knocking his shoulder, Rory turned to clamber off the bed when his touch halted her, and she returned her stare to settle on his cobalt orbs, gently pleading with her.

"Stay." The tip of Tristan's tongue nervously passed over his bottom lip, "Please…"

Rory paused at the childlike quality to his voice, and she nodded her consent, sliding beneath the covers to lie beside him. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, Rory let her eyes drift upward to meet his.

"So what did you guys talk about at the pub?"

Tristan shrugged, his thumb running over the back of his hand, "Stuff…just, y'know, the memories and all that." He sighed, "It was good, you know? Getting all that stuff out. It was kinda…nice."

Tristan chuckled, "Brandon always wanted to meet you. I told you that already." A somber smile spreading across his face, Tristan exhaled, "He called me a dumbass for not chasing after you and forcing you to explain your sudden change in opinion about me…"

Rory blanched, remembering the day he was alluding to and the awful things she had said, "Tris…I – I didn't mean the things I said…I wasn't thinking. I was scared, and Dean…"

Tristan gently clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively halting Rory's flustered rant, "Take a breath, Rory."

Complying, Rory shook her head, her eyes pleading with his, "Tristan, I'm so sorry for everything that happened last summer…"

Tristan's mouth quirked upward in a sad, rueful smile as he shook his head. A deep sigh wracked his body, and his piercing cobalt eyes scanned hers intently. Raising a hand, he gently caressed her soft, porcelain cheek, his fingers tucking a wayward chocolate lock behind her ear. Propping his head up, he gently nudged her nose with his.

"Ah, Mar, there's nothing left for me to forgive." At her searching look, he chuckled, his eyes flicking skyward as though the answer lay in the surrounding air. Returning his gaze to hers, Rory glanced away, fearful of the unbridled affection shining in his eyes, the only part of him that readily portrayed emotion.

"I already forgave you a long time ago." Another low chuckle reached her ears, "My heart forgave you about two seconds after I walked away from you a year ago." Tristan shrugged, "My head prolonged the inevitable to salvage my pride."

"Then why didn't you call me?" Rory implored softly, her hand reaching out to clasp onto his free one.

Tristan's shoulders lifted in another shrug, "Like I said…Pride. Ego. I denno, Ror. You hurt me bad that day. I couldn't bring myself to admit that I forgave you about two steps after you took my heart and drove a six-inch spike through the center." Tristan shook his head, glancing down at their intertwined fingers, "I denno, maybe I was stupid. I couldn't swallow my pride and call you. I had to hear about everything through either Paris or Beau."

"Same here." Rory admitted softly. Dropping her head, she allowed it to swing back and forth, "I'm so sorry, Tristan."

"C'mon, Rory. Weren't you listening before?" Cupping her chin, he brought her eyes, the eyes he loved for their innate curiosity and wide-eyed innocence, "There's nothing left to forgive. I already forgave you." Tristan drew her tightly into his embrace, relishing the sensations that spread through his body and delight he felt as she burrowed down into his chest.

"No more apologies, no more regrets." Tristan pressed a kiss to her hair, "We start moving forward. We can't waste anymore time…" A sobering thought breaking into his consciousness, he whispered the last part of the sentence, unsure whether it was loud enough to reach her ears.

"Not when we don't know how much we have…"

Safe in Tristan's arms, Rory snuggled down into his chest, allowing her eyes to finally drift shut. He was right. They had wasted enough time with that stupid squabble of theirs. Now was the time to seize the day and move forward. No more apologies, no more regrets. Brandon Knox refused to squander away his life, and Rory felt it was time to do the same with hers. **_Carpe diem_**.

_Whew! Finished! Yay! Anyway, next to come is more time in New York as our characters become closer in more ways than one…Logan is not done quite yet, perhaps one more appearance, and Paris is not done as well. Plus, we will have a bit of rocky waters for one of our couples. Or both, I haven't really decided yet, but I can say that we are starting to wind down…I'm not sure how many chapters are left in this story, but everything is starting to come together. Hopefully, I will get the next chapter within the week. I'm not making promises, though. So until next time…_

_Roxy_


	15. Live Your Life for Those that You Love

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

_Before death threats are thrown my way, I apologize. With summer and losing my memory stick, I simply couldn't update. I have to admit, rewriting a chapter stinks and is a completely harrowing and tedious process, especially when you know you had magic the first time around, but I managed to re-capture some of that magic. We'll see how that goes. This is a lighter, more playful chapter that parallels the previous chapter and sets the scene for the heavier and dramatic chapter that follows. Everything is more explanatory and less crucial to the actual plot._

_Just to let everyone know, I'm not very sure what Finn's full name is. In past fictions, I've seen his name portrayed as Finn Morgan. But, in this fic, I decided to be different and have the 'Finn' be part of his last name. So unless anyone can give me the actual name used in the show, my Finn is Declan Finnegan, III_

**Chapter 15**

_Live Your Life for Those that You Love_

The sunlight permeated the thin curtains shading the window from the outside world, basking Rory with its radiance. As the beams filtered through the room, Rory squinched her eyes, forcing them to stay shut, unwilling to allow them to open as she wished to prolong her realization of the dawn. Last night had brought her comfort in the arms of Tristan Dugrey, closure from the idiotic squabble that had taken a year away from their friendship. His lips spoke the truth the night before. They were done wasting time. Now, they were moving forward.

As Rory finally succumbed to the inevitable arrival of the morning, her eyes fluttered open as her senses began to retain consciousness, and the first thing she noticed was a muscled and tanned arm wound securely around her waist. Rory's eyes followed the line of Tristan's forearm to his hand, his fingers lightly twined with hers, and her mind drifted back to thoughts of the previous night. She had felt safe, secure, and protected as though he held the ability to chase away any discomfort. As she watched him drift off to sleep, Rory felt a fluttering in her stomach. The last time she had felt such flutterings was a year ago. With her thoughts of a time just over a year old came memories what transpired between them during a time where everything changed.

**_Rory exhaled softly as her back hit her mattress, cradled by Tristan's strong arms. His free hand gently brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead as his piercing eyes bore into hers, filled with his gentle affection. Dipping his head down, he brushed a kiss of soft reassurance across her lips, his fingertips skimming down the expanse of smooth skin bared to his gaze. Feeling her tense beneath him, Tristan pulled away, lovingly caressing her face with a comforting touch._**

_**"Relax, Rory." His voice, deep and husky with his restrained desire, soothed her with dulcet tones, "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with me." His lips ghosting across her forehead, Tristan's mouth curved into a warm smile as Rory's eyes met his, shining with her absolute trust.**_

_**"Tonight, I'm going to take care of you."**_

**_As Tristan began to kiss a path down her neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot at the graceful slope where the long column transitioned into her shoulder, Rory felt herself become pliant beneath the sinful intoxication of his kisses, her teeth sinking down into her bottom lip with the sensations stirred within her body. As the shivers rollicked up and down her spine, one thought resonated solidly amidst her raging thoughts: the locker room gossip at Chilton was not a bunch of hearsay. Tristan Dugrey's kisses were completely and absolutely invigorating. Tristan's mouth moved downward, his eyes never straying from hers, and Rory acquiesced to the feelings encompassing her mind and body, believing that he would keep his word._**

That night, Tristan was very true to his word. He took care of her in a way that no one else could, and in turn, she gave him everything. That night, Rory had never felt so protected or so loved. But then her mind had to interfere, and doubt had to rear its head. But that time was over. They were both ready to put everything behind them and focus on what was important.

Rory eased onto her other side, careful not to wake her bed companion. Facing him directly, she took advantage of his current state of slumber to study his features as she had done countless times while he slept over. There was no denying he was a gorgeous specimen of man, and the years since high school had allowed his face to mature. His features were relaxed, peaceful as he slept, a small smile adorning his mouth. His chin, once clean-shaven in high school, now had the light dusting of stubble along the jawline that gave him a rugged, mature appearance. His light eyes hid behind his eyelids as his ridiculously long lashes spanned across his cheeks. His tousled hair, grown from the mandated buzz cut from Amherst, gave him an almost endearing boyish likeness, and Rory's fingers itched to run through the strands she knew from experience were just as soft as they looked. Rory shifted slightly to get a better look at his face, but at her movement, Tristan's arm tightened around her waist as he drew her closer, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. The action brought her face millimeters away from his, his soft lips at eye level.

As though he realized her gaze upon him, Tristan's eyelids parted, and he was greeted with a faceful of Rory Gilmore. His bleary, blue spheres adjusting to the light of the morning, Tristan allowed his mouth to quirk upward in a small smile of uninhibited affection.

"Morning."

Rory withheld shivers at the husky tenor of his voice weighed down with sleep as she smiled back. "Morning. How's your head?"

A groan tore from Tristan's throat as he untangled himself from Rory, flopping onto his back. Idly rubbing the last effects of slumber from his eyes, Tristan stretched languidly, a yawn rumbling through his chest.

"Feels like a herd of elephants has taken residence within the confines of my head." Came the mumbled response.

Rory laughed, one hand sneaking up from the covers to lightly flick his nose. "Well, from the sound of it, you and Riley didn't hold back too much."

Tristan barked out an amused laugh, "We held back from shots of hard liquor, so I'd say last night was a success. Just beer has flowed through these veins."

Rory rolled onto her stomach, sprawling out over the rumpled bed sheets, disregarding the fact that Tristan was beside her. "Are you actually able to function today?"

Tristan chuckled, batting away the leg that she threw over his stomach, "Functioning is never an issue, Rory. Being aware of myself functioning has always been the problem…"

Rory propped her head on her arm, "You didn't answer my question, Bible Boy."

"Your perceptiveness on the things that don't hold significant bearing continues to amaze and astound me." Tristan teased. With his arms obscuring her view of his face, Rory didn't see the sly grin skating over his features. Rolling over her prone form, he playfully squashed her down into the covers, grinning as a squeal erupted from his hapless victim.

"As a matter of fact, I actually am." Laughing at the muffled screech of indignation from his casualty of mischief, Tristan lowered his head to the small, shapely ear he had once gotten reprimanded for finding so fascinating as it poked through the strands of brunette hair.

"Get dressed, Mar. Me and Beau are taking you and Alex out."

Shoving him off her, Rory shook her bangs out of her eyes to regard him closely, "Where are we going exactly?"

Tristan only smirked, replying in a sing-song falsetto, "You'll see…"

Rory only grumbled, dragging herself out of bed, the blankets wrapped around her slight frame as she padded to the adjacent bathroom, "Why do I have the feeling this has some testosterone-induced theme to it?"

- - -

"Yankee Stadium?"

Two hours later, Rory stared dumbfounded up at the massive structure before her eyes. One eyebrow cocked, she turned her attention to Tristan beside her as he reveled in the ambiance of their surroundings, a wide grin adorning his handsome face that shone with a boyish enthusiasm.

"You brought us to Yankee Stadium?"

Tristan's head bobbed up and down emphatically, showcasing the absolute childlike reverence he held for the famed building. Barely able to contain his excitement, he rocked on the balls of his feet like a child showing off his prized possession, "Uh huh. What do you think?"

Rory sighed heavily, "I think you two are nuts." Gesturing to Alex and herself, Rory cocked her head at her male counterpart.

"Tristan, what the hell kind of entertainment do you think Alex and I would obtain from watching eighteen grown-men chase after a cowhide sphere no more that a foot in circumference?"

"Oh, c'mon, Ror. Baseball is America's pastime! No journey to New York is complete without a stop at Yankee Stadium."

"Tristan! We have historical sights at out beck and call. SoHo, Broadway, the Met all in this fair city, and you dragged me out to a vast venue of grass and dirt with no cultural value whatsoever?"

The moment Tristan and Riley's faces blanched and shone with indignation, Rory knew she had said the wrong thing. Riley visibly puffed up as he stared at her, completely thunderstruck.

"No cultural value?" His deep voice resonated with the utmost offense, "No cultural value? This is America's pastime, the epitome of the common man's struggle, the ultimate tale of triumph against any and all adversary!" Riley rotated, spreading his arms wide to embrace the ambiance of Yankee Stadium, his voice lowered to an awed whisper.

"The most extraordinary match-ups, the most intense rivalries, and the most celebrated moments occur between these walls. Dreams are formed, legacies created, dynasties built, heroes celebrated, legends made immortal! All of this happens on the baseball field! This is the venue where hopes can build, ascending to proportions coming _thisclose_ to the achievement of imaginings fostered from childhood, and in one second, able to be dashed into an oblivion of tragic devastation." Riley turned to face his two female counterparts, his face solemn in a way only a thoroughly reverential baseball fan could achieve.

"If that isn't cultural value, ladies, then we have no appreciation for the epic journey these men endure year after year."

Tristan bowed his head in respect, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, "Beau, man, that was beautiful." Turning to Rory and Alex, he grinned. "You see, Brandon loved the Yankees. And we thought today, we're gonna honor his memory by taking you to all his favorite sights in his hometown. It'll give you a good sense of who he was and a chance to do a little sight-seeing."

Riley nodded his agreement, "Yep, and the games between the Red Sox and the Yankees are as intense as they come, equivalent to the rivalry we share with Harvard. And, of course, we are rootin' for dem Yankees." With a boyish grin, he pulled a cap from his back pocket, jamming it onto his mess of hair, the Yankee logo sitting prominently for all to see. Unbuttoning his white over-shirt, Riley revealed another piece of Yankee regalia in the t-shirt beneath the collared button-up.

Rory felt her argument beginning to weaken at the two boys obvious excitement and eagerness for the game as she sighed, "Tristan, you honestly think Alex and I are able to sit through nine periods of baseball?"

"Innings." Tristan corrected absently, slipping his own cap onto his head. Slinging an arm around Rory's shoulder, he shrugged, "There are ways to keep you two busy: food, memorabilia. You _do_ have a book in that purse, Mary. I saw you slip in _War and Peace_…"

At Rory's still skeptical look, Tristan stuck his bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout, his eyes going wide as his voice took on a whiny quality.

"Please, Ror…? If you're not gonna watch for the game, watch for the players. Some of them are fairly studly members of the male species." Tristan shot her a grin, "And this is coming from a man who knows what he's talking about…"

Rory only rolled her eyes, allowing him to lead her into the stadium, "Okay…but only if you buy me one of those giant finger thingies…"

- - -

"HEY!"

Rory giggled as she gazed at Tristan, one fist pumped into the air as he sang along with the stadium anthem blaring through the speakers. Three innings had passed, and she was surprised to discover she hadn't felt the need to break out her Tolstoy and was enjoying the game immensely. She had no idea what the hell was going on, only that the guy on the hill threw the ball at the guy inside the box, who tried to hit the ball into the big expanse of field and touch all the square things without getting "out." Whatever that meant. But even with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever in the goings-on of baseball, Rory still found herself entertained with all the activity around her.

She looked over at Tristan hollering furiously as the he egged a Yankee around the bases, another following behind. As the two teammates crossed home plate, Tristan threw both his hands up in the air, cheering madly before turning to slap palms with Riley. Rory shook her head at the antics of her two male companions as she gazed down at the field.

With Tristan's focus fixated on the game, Rory smiled to herself. This was nice. It had been a long time since they had simply hung out together, and without the weight of the previous year's squabble, Rory liked this feeling. Out of the corner of her eye, she snuck another peek at the tall, blonde boy beside her. She had been his rock through the rough-and-tumble ride of Brandon's death and subsequent funeral and seeing him at his most vulnerable and weakest stirred emotions Rory hadn't felt in awhile. During the past few days, Tristan had been unusually intimate with her, seeking comfort from subtle advances: chaste kisses to the forehead and knuckles, lingering touches. Rory hadn't thought twice about them before, but now, with everything they had been through, she had found her thoughts venturing into a foray previously buried beneath the surface. As of now, she and Tristan were just friends. But Rory wasn't sure if the idea of "something more" was all that bad.

"You know, you're way too pensive for a baseball game. Is something wrong?"

Tristan's voice startled her for a moment as they intruded on her ponderings. Rory smiled as his arm slipped across her shoulders, drawing her into his t-shirt-clad chest emblazoned with the Yankee logo. Shrugging, she tilted her head up to look into his inquisitive navy spheres.

"I wouldn't know if I was too pensive for a game. Is there any educational value?"

Tristan chuckled at the teasing jab, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers, "Just basic math skills, count to three – sometimes four – and repeat. Plus, fundamental knowledge that one comes after two…etc. But really, is there something wrong?"

Rory shook her head. "No. I'm just happy…"

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, "Happy? You were fighting tooth and nail to come to this game, even going as far as to state it has no cultural value – a blasphemous notion, I might add. So now you're happy?"

Rory shrugged again, her eyes meeting his, twinkling with mirth. "I like this."

Catching the underlying connotation, a corner of Tristan's mouth quirked upward into a smile. Wrapping both arms around her frame, Tristan squeezed gently, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Yeah, me too."

Their attention diverted back to the field as a shout rose around them, and they glanced up just in time to watch the ball, a small pellet from their seats, disappear into the mid-day sky only to come crashing down amongst the spectators taking residence in the centerfield stands. As Jason Giambi trotted his way around the bases, a roar passed through the crowd, shouting their approval for the Yankee slugger as he widened the gap between the two teams.

With shouts of elation surrounding their group, Rory's eyes wandered to Tristan as he pumped a fist into the air, exchanging high fives with his fellow Yankee supporters. Turning a face alive with euphoria her way, Tristan grinned, dropping a kiss into her hair as he pulled her into his grasp. Winding her arms around his waist, Rory continued her study of him while his focus reverted back to the cheers around him.

In stark contrast to the previous day, Tristan's handsome face shone with no sign of the agony he endured during Brandon's funeral. Instead, his features gleamed with a simple boyish excitement and zeal for the game, reveling in the easy and playful atmosphere. Tristan's face lit up again as another Yankee player scampered around to third on a hit, his expression devoid of the sullen, drawn appearance yesterday had bestowed on him. Against the cotton of his t-shirt shamelessly displaying his allegiance between the two teams on the field, Rory turned to regard the second male in their group. Riley's face glinted with his perpetual jaunty grin as he reared back, thrusting both fists skyward. His clear, gray eyes once again twinkled with their innate enthusiasm, far from the haunted, hollow sheen of the day before. Rory couldn't help but smile as the brunette writer, the strands of his hair poking out from beneath the brim of his Yankee cap, slipped his arms around the frame of Alexandra Dugrey, dipping his head down to nuzzle her neck before whipping the cap off his head to plunk it down on her blonde locks. Rotating back to Tristan, Rory leaned back against his chest.

"This is nice, isn't it?"

As a low chuckle shook his torso, Tristan nodded his agreement, "Yeah. Of course this is nice. The Yankees are winning."

- - -

Back in Connecticut, Logan Huntzberger crashed into his apartment, his shoulders slumped from the rampant emotions banging against his psyche. From his position on the couch, Finn allowed his eyes to flick over to his friend before his attention returned to the screen and the video game spanning across the television as his thumbs rapidly punched the buttons on the controller.

"'Ello, mate. Where'd you disappear off to?"

Logan groaned, one hand drifting upward to idly run through his hair. "New York. I had to talk to Rory."

Finn snorted, immersed in his game as the monitor of the huge television screen lit up with explosions, "And how did that go?"

Logan hauled himself from the armchair, crossing over to their fridge. Grabbing a bottle from their varied supply of spirits, he popped the cap with an irritable twist of his wrist.

"Well, from her extremely deliberate actions, I found myself staring at a very blank wooden door."

Finn withheld a laugh at his friend's expense, "Hm…from my excellent deductive reasoning, I would gather that it didn't go very well at all. That would explain the expression on your face. You look as though someone punted your dog the length of the football field. "

Logan snorted, flopping back down on an armchair. "Well, Mr. Finnegan, as per usual, your analytical mind and talents continue to astound and amaze me." Tipping his head back, Logan winced slightly as the strong liquid traveled down his throat.

"You know what the worst part is? She just brushed me off like I meant nothing to her."

Finn scoffed, as he paused his game, tossing the controller down on the table, "What did you expect, mate? There's no way that she would be able to forgive you. Not the way she was brought into this world, and not when it concerns Tristan Dugrey."

Logan allowed his head to loll back against the cushions, "I just thought that what we shared would be able to overcome that."

Finn shrugged, "It won't. It can't. What they share means so much more."

A sigh wracked through Logan's chest. "I never thought that she would disregard the bond we had. I mean, it's been what a few days since we've broken up? And she's already cuddling up to Dugrey."

Finn chuckled at his friend's ignorance, "Logan, no one's gonna deny you and Rory shared something. But that was different."

Logan took another swig of the bottle in his fist, a bitter smile on his face. "Finn, no one knows Rory like I do."

The Aussie cocked an eyebrow at the statement, "Oh, really? You honestly believe that?" Seeing the resolute sheen on his friend's face, Finn quirked a conspiratorial grin.

"Okay, then. What's her favorite flower?"

Logan's eyes flew to his companion's, his eyebrows shooting skyward in skepticism. "What? Are you serious?" Finn merely shot him a pointed look. Logan huffed out a sigh.

"Fine." Thinking hard, Logan tossed out his reply, "White roses."

"Nope. Sunflowers."

Finn held Logan's incredulous stare. "What place in Stars Hollow does she love the most, excluding her house and Luke's?"

Throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, Logan looked heavenward for the answer, "I don't know. I've stayed away from that crackpot town."

"The gazebo." Finn retorted easily, "It's where she can experience the best parts of her home from the center of everything. Everything magical happens to her there."

Perplexed with the knowledge his friend held – knowledge he hadn't bothered to uncover – Logan attempted to defend himself, "Finn, this doesn't prove anything."

"Maybe," The Aussie agreed, inclining his head in consideration, "but this last question will."

Raising his eyes, he gazed straight at Logan's brown orbs, "Who is her best friend? The one she leans on for emotional support and is there for her whenever she calls? Who would move rock and stone to make her happy?"

Logan responded with a toss of his head, "That's easy. Gellar. And that Korean chick from Stars Hollow."

"Wrong."

Logan recoiled slightly in surprise, "What?"

"It's Tristan Dugrey. He's the only person who knows her inside out and upside down."

Logan's gaze hardened as he poked himself in the chest, indignation shining through his brown eyes, "But he doesn't know her like _I_ do, Finn."

Finn sighed. "Actually, he does. See, Reporter Girl lost her virginity to Dugrey. He knows her on both your level of intimacy and my level of friendship. He's got the best of both worlds." Finn attempted to reason with the resolute boy, trying to both placate his wounded ego while making him see the point.

"So what is this quiz trying to prove here, Finn? That I don't know Rory as well as you do?" Logan raged, bristling in rage. "This proves nothing. I'm still trying to figure out all of her. She's still my girlfriend. She was never his."

"Was." Finn corrected absently. "Don't you see what's missing here, Huntz? Ever wonder why she understood you so well? Why she seemed to anticipate your actions before you even thought of them yourself? It's not because she got to know you, mate. It's because she's been there and done that with Tristan Dugrey. But you've never even bothered to reciprocate. We know her the way you do because we actually took the time to get to know her. You only see her as the only girl who saw through all your bullshit. You see her as a challenge. _He_ sees her as a treasure worth the time and effort it takes to unearth. I hate to break it to you, mate, but she's more his than she'll ever be yours."

"Wow, _buddy_, your irrefutable support is just warming my heart." Logan spat sullenly, drowning his sorrows in booze.

Finn shook his head, "Look, mate, I never agreed with the way you treated Alexandra Dugrey. No one deserves what you did to her. This really pains me to say it, Huntz, but you had that one coming. The karmatic gods don't look to kindly on betrayal and deceit."

Logan snorted, "What are you, her personal sentinel? Sorry, pal, you're a bit late. Beaumont's already doggedly filled that position." Logan ran his hands through his hair, the tousled strands even more disheveled with the aggravation of his predicament.

"What was I supposed to do, Finn?" Logan gritted out through clenched teeth, "Do you realize how much pressure my father was putting on me to do well? How much he was counting on his prodigal son to emerge from Yale preened and primed to take over the Huntzberger empire? There was no way in hell I was going to allow her to ruin that. Not when he looks at goddamn Tristan Dugrey and sees the man I couldn't be." He punctuated his statement with a thrust of an aggravated finger.

For the first time, Finn saw the extent of Logan's lack of touch with the real world, the world outside of the socialite bubble his upbringing raised him in. Logan Huntzberger only knew a life where everything had been bestowed on him with the reverence from his last name – what didn't could be bought and shipped within a few days – and everyone bowed to his wishes. Logan never knew what it was like to be rejected or even second-best with the preference going to another party, and this break-up with Rory was throwing him for a loop that proved to be way beyond his comprehension. In a gesture of almost pity, Finn shook his head.

"No, Huntz. You were supposed to own up to your mistake. You really think that's okay? That it's acceptable to completely disregard a person like they don't have any worth? To completely disregard their _dignity_? You were supposed to be honorable. Because in the end, that's all we have: our honor. You should have respected yours."

Logan barked out a bitter laugh, "Well, thanks for that lesson in morality, _Declan_. Remind me to turn to you when I'm in need of ethical guidance."

Finn grimaced, "Ouch, mate. No one's called me by my first name since primary school." In that moment, a decision ran through his mind, and Finn hefted himself off of the couch, turning towards the coat closet. At his movement, Logan's gaze shifted his way.

"Where are you going?"

Finn quirked an ironic grin. "You're right about one thing, Huntz. I am your friend. And, as a friend, I'm making things right." With that, he disappeared through the door.

Logan watched him go, a pensive look on his face. He considered everything Finn had said, trying to force himself to believe the actions he had taken two years ago were just. He honestly wasn't a callous bastard with a humongous gaping hole where his heart should reside. Logan Huntzberger was simply…pressured. And maybe a bit commitment-phobic. But for her part, Alex really should have realized the improbability of the faithfulness of his commitment. He was in college, for crying out loud, with those precious few years left to take advantage of his youth. Because his life, come next June, would be completely and uncontestedly over. Commitment was not very desirable for a boy who had a little over ten months left of freedom.

It wasn't as though he didn't care for Alex. Honestly, truly, he did. The first moment they had met, she had captivated him with her dual armament of spunk and sweetness, and he noticed how his name failed to impress her. After all, hers was far more esteemed in the Hartford circles. He had charmed her fairly quickly, lavishing her with gifts, glowing eyes, and whispered words of sweet nothings, her friends swooning just as effortlessly as she had. The only thing in his way was a six-three, gray eyed, Yale soccer player, pit bull guard dog who didn't bother to mask his distrust. But Logan had worked around that detail, enchanting his way into Alex Dugrey's heart.

When they were together, Alex's visits came routinely every other weekend, and when she arrived, he played the role of the dutiful, doting boyfriend, fawning over her as she gushed at his perfection. But the moment her taillights disappeared from view, Logan was off, already scouting out his next conquest of the week. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything for Alex. He did, he really did, but Logan Huntzberger did not get attached, and the desperation to savor his last few moments of freedom heavily outweighed his sense of fidelity.

But then, the façade began to unravel. He hadn't expected her for another week and had finally charmed that busty blonde who had been giving him "the Eye" for a month into a "study session." When Alex had burst into his room, he had felt for her, he honestly had. But at the same time, a weight had lifted from his chest. He no longer had to pretend. The day his relationship with Alex dissolved, Logan lamented with Finn and Colin, toasting to the longest relationship Logan had been through before heading back to their loft, a pair of brunettes and a redhead for Finn on each arm.

With what had transpired between them, Logan hadn't anticipated to ever see Alexandra Dugrey again. He figured the hurt and anger she harbored towards him would be motive enough to keep her distance. Not that he particularly minded that little detail. He had spotted her a few times as she visited Riley, and the expression beneath her clear, blue eyes was heart wrenching, but Logan Huntzberger didn't believe in regrets. But one fateful day – the day that set everything in motion – Alexandra arrived at his front door.

**_The door to the Huntzberger mansion flew open, and Logan's face split into an arrogant grin as he recognized the girl standing idly at his doorway. _**

"**_Hey! Alexandra Dugrey! What a surprise. Here for another romp in some undisclosed location?" Alex shifted uncomfortably on his porch, looking very much as though she would rather walk through fire than be standing in her current location. His curiosity paired with a smug smile of satisfaction, Logan leaned casually against the doorway, the epitome of nonchalance._**

"**_You know, normally, I don't find myself predisposed to a second go-around with an ex, but I'll make an exception. Just this once." Logan's eyes dropped toward the ground, his brow furrowed in an expression of faux-remorse._**

"**_However, I can't promise I won't kick you out after we're done and please don't expect a call in the morning."_**

**_Drawing in a long, suffering breath, Alex mustered up enough courage to answer him. Raising her gaze to his, she twisted her hands before her. "We need to talk, Logan."_**

**_Logan cocked an eyebrow as he stepped back to allow her entrance, his face contorted into an expression of mock bewilderment heavy with condescension. The deep brown spheres that used to twinkle with adoration had hardened into detached indifference._**

"**_Hmm, that is the weirdest approach to a booty call I've ever heard." _**

**_"Logan, I'm pregnant."_**

**_"And my dick just deflated," came the flippant response, but as Alex's profession registered in his mind, Logan's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Wait, what?"_**

**_Alex bit her lip as she reiterated her previous statement, "I'm pregnant, Logan, and it's yours."_**

**_"You're pregnant." Logan repeated slowly as if he hadn't heard her correctly. His jaw twitched with a restrained calm as he regarded Alex closely, gauging sincerity younger girl , "You sure it's mine?"_**

**_Recoiling back as though he had struck her, Alex turned disbelieving eyes to the boy she once thought gazed upon her with unbridled affection. Instead, his handsome features only shone with unmistakable revulsion. _**

_**"Are you serious?"**_

_**Logan's mouth twisted into a malicious sneer, "Well, you and I were never together for a long period of time. Anything could have happened."**_

**_Searching his face for any sign of farce, Alex glared at the blonde boy across from her, at the face so different from what she thought she knew._**

"**_Logan, don't be stupid. You know that's not true. You were my first and you were my only."_**

**_"Is there a problem here?"_**

**_The two teenagers glanced up as a third voice intruded in on their conversaton. Together, they rotated towards the source as the unmistakable figure of Mitchum Huntzberger gracefully made his way down from the staircase. Logan's eyes flicked briefly in Alexandra's direction before he turned to direct his next words to his father._**

**_"Well, Dad. It seems that Lexi here is pregnant, and she's insisting that I'm the father."_**

**_Mitchum's once amiable visage darkened into a disgusted scowl as he regarded Alexandra with blatant repugnance, "Just making the rounds, huh, girl? Well, I can assure you, you will find nothing here." _**

**_Mitchum's tone dripped with sardonic malice as he looked down at the girl before him with haughty arrogance, "So who's next? The Sandersons? I hear the boy has trouble keeping it in his pants. Or maybe a Dugrey? That family has been gold ever since that son of theirs came back from military school completely reformed. Mitchum smirked, "It would be nice to knock them off their high horse."_**

**_Mitchum turned to Logan, his disappointment blatant as he gazed down at his only son, "If only I would have known the good military school would have done, I would have sent you there." At his father's pointed glance, Logan shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes diverting the ground._**

**_Alex bristled, struggling to keep her head held high, "Considering Tristan's my brother, I don't see that as a possibility. Even the lowest of society frowns upon such relations."_**

**_In the same instant that had brought about his disgust, Mitchum's expression transformed to display a shrewd undertone, his eyes glinting with a keen perception of the situation. "Ah, so you're a Dugrey. Interesting." _**

**_Both teens could see the wheels turning as the newspaper magnate turned towards the back doors leading out to the terrace, "Well, I have some business to take care of, Logan. I trust you will do the same with yours." As he departed, Mitchum shot a meaningful look over his shoulder at his son._**

"**_You know where the checkbook is."_**

**_Logan nodded his compliance as he rotated, disappearing through a set of doors. Once he returned, the aforementioned checkbook and pen in hand, his head ducked down as he scribbled, Logan smiled in satisfaction. Ripping a sheet from its fellows with a deft tug, Logan handed the check to Alex._**

**_"There you go. That should cover it."_**

**_Alex's eyes shifted from the slip of paper shoved into her hands to the boy before her. She had once loved him, and she thought he had once loved her. So why was he doing this?_**

"**_What is this?" _**

**_Logan regarded her with a confused look, "A blank check." Casually tossing the checkbook on a nearby table, Logan waved one hand blithely through the air. "Do what you have to do. Just take care of it"._**

**_Alex continued to stare at him dumbly, unwilling to comprehend what he was currently doing, "You're paying me off?"_**

**_Logan looked surprise at the disbelief in her voice, "What? Did you think I'd actually let you keep the baby?" _**

**_Seeing his answer in her eyes, Logan responded with an arrogant toss of his head. "Please, Lexi, don't disillusion yourself. Do you realize what kind of scandal this will cause? I have a family image to uphold and so do you. This is the best thing for both of us."_**

**_Logan shook his head, "Do you get what kind of pressure I'm under to do well at Yale and then in Dad's corporation? Ever since your goddamn brother came back from that stupid boot camp all high and mighty with a valedictorian's sash and a scholarship to Stanford, my father's been comparing us, and I'm not measuring up. And now this?"_**

**_Logan's eyes narrowed as his voice lowered dangerously, "So you hear this: No bastard child will ever have the name Huntzberger. So go wherever you go and take care of it. Cause it's not mine."_**

_**At his fierce avowal, Alex felt the last seam holding her fragile heart together tear away. Unwillingly, her eyes pooled with tears of shame and humiliation. Not so long ago, Logan had filled her ears with promises of love, with sweet nothings, and what she believed were heartfelt declarations of undying devotion. Now, standing here in the foyer of the Huntzberger estate, Alex could only see herself as a dirty whore, used for pleasure and discarded just as easily. The truth rang heavily within her conscious mind. Sure, Logan loved her. He loved the fact that she got him laid on a daily basis. The evidence was in the blank check before her eyes as it dissolved into a blur. There was the face value of Alexandra Dugrey: a check. Logan's derisive tone broke through her ears, and she raised her eyes to look at him.**_

"**_Oh, c'mon, Alex. Did you really think this," Logan gestured between them, "was going to last forever? Did you really think we were in love?" _**

**_Logan scoffed, his eyes rolling skyward. " Please. I'm in college. I don't need commitments. I'm not gonna be tied down by one girl during the last vestiges of freedom I have. But hey, it was fun wasn't it?"_**

**_Alex only stared back, her expression as blank as the check clutched in her hands. She had believed with all her heart he really did care for her. Once, she believed she was his world and he was hers. Alex couldn't believe those feelings were so effortlessly shed to be aimed somewhere else._**

**_Logan sneered, reaching out to gently chuck her chin, "Aw, chin up. You're gonna find another guy. Trust me, with your," Logan's eyes swept up and down Alex's body, a lewd leer curving his mouth, "talent, they'll be knocking at your doorstep." _**

**_Turning his head, he directed a shout towards the kitchens. "Maria!"_**

**_At his summons, a squat woman bustled up to his side, glancing expectantly at the young socialite, "Yes, Master Logan?"_**

**_Shooting the maid a charming smile, Logan motioned in Alex's direction. "Would you please show Ms. Dugrey to the door. Our business is done here."_**

**_As the woman began to lead her away, Logan's lips split into a simpering, pompous smirk as he jauntily bobbed on the balls of his feet, his hands stuck nonchalantly in his pockets. "C'mon, kiddo. Buck up. I'm sure there are other guys. Someone's gotta claim it. Go to Beaumont. I'm sure he's hit that at least once." With his eyes fixated on hers, Logan shot her a jolly wave, the image of his cruel grin the last thing in her mind. _**

_**As the heavy doors of the Huntzberger mansion shut behind her, the bang resonating heavily in her ears, Alex allowed the check to flutter to the ground. That day marked the end of her innocence, the end of her fairy tale. The handsome prince who was supposed to rescue the damsel in distress had scoffed in her face, sending her away with a dismissive brush of her hand. There would be no happily ever after for Alexandra Dugrey.**_

Logan remembered that day well. He had gotten quite the lecture from his father after that debacle. Mitchum Huntzberger was sorely tempted to release his little bit of information to the social circles of Hartford, but the newspaper mogul was shrewd enough to see the demise of his own reputation in the horizon if the scandal were to leak, so Mitchum had kept silent. Riley Beaumont, however, had refused to let the issue go and had shown Logan his opinion of the situation with a few painful and choice points. And as Logan sat alone, a bottle of vodka clutched in his fist, a haunting mantra that had resonated solidly in his brain echoed off of the empty apartment walls as clear as the day they were spoken.

**_"One of these days, Hamburger, you are gonna find a girl worth keeping, and this right here will come back to haunt you. Mark my words, Huntzberger. Karma's a bitch."_**

Staring bitterly down at the empty recesses of the bottle clasped in his hand, Logan angrily flung the empty container away, the subsequent crash the only sound he could hear. Closing his eyes, he cursed Alexandra Dugrey, her womanly wiles, and her unexpected pregnancy; he cursed Riley Beaumont, his fists of steel, and his eerie premonition for the future; he cursed Tristan Dugrey, his relationship with the ace reporter Rory Gilmore and the fact that he had everything Logan wanted; and lastly, Logan cursed Rory Gilmore and her strange and unassuming appeal that had broken through the barriers of his heart, allowing him to see the beauties of a relationship. With one lie, everything that had been good for him had been ripped away. Rearing his head back, he screamed an expletive up to the heavens.

"FUCK!"

- - -

Not too far away in New York, a quartet of collegiates exited the shadows of Yankee Stadium. While the two males in the group bickered about the finer points of the game, their female counterparts gushed about the finer points of the players.

"Did you see his butt? I mean, in those pants and when he bent over…?"

"Oooh! Or time when he clenched as he stretched in that little circle thingy?"

Tristan threw an arm around Rory's shoulders as she and Alex continued to rave about one of the more physical assets of Alex Rodriguez.

"Would you two stop already?"

Pinching his cheeks, Rory made a face at him, "Aw, Trissy, is someone feeling attention deprived?"

"Please, Rory, all I have to do is visit my parents if I wanted to feel that…You two have been going on for a good five minutes."

Rory grinned, "Well, you did want us to go to a game. I definitely liked what I saw."

"Ye-ah…" Alex agreed, "Me too."

Rolling his eyes, Tristan whirled around to face the two girls, "So you two are completely disregarding the fact that he made a throwing error that messed up a crucial double play that could have made the game a lot closer than it was?"

Rory stared blankly at her male counterpart, "What's a double play?"

Alex defended her fellow female, "What? What's wrong with appreciating the attributes of a player?"

Riley rolled his eyes in response, "You're discussing his ass! It has nothing to do with him as a player."

Rory looked affronted, "Personally, I think it has everything to do with him as a player. It makes him a fine player indeed."

Tristan smirked, "Wow, Mar. Who knew you could be so superficial?"

Rory cocked an eyebrow, "What, did you two think we hung around you for your intelligence?"

"Humph. I knew my dazzling wit was wasted on you two." Riley grumbled, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

The group erupted into peals of laughter, the quartet turned the corner, continuing on down the sidewalk, not noticing as Rory halted. Tristan turned back to find her staring up at a billboard hovering over the stadium, a pensive look splayed across her attractive feature. Backtracking to join her, Tristan lay comforting hands on her shoulder blades, squeezing gently. Rory tilted her head, meeting his reassuring gaze as a determined smile worked its way across his face, and together, they gazed up at the billboard advertising The New York Times.

"Don't worry, Ror. You'll make it there. We all know Mitchum Huntzberger is a jackwad who knows nothing about talent."

Smiling a grateful smile, Rory grasped the outstretched offering, allowing him to lead her down the sidewalk. As the pair disappeared around another corner, Riley hung back for a moment, a thoughtful expression lilting his features. Whipping out his cell phone, Riley dialed the numbers he hadn't used in a long time.

"Hey. I need a favor." At the skeptical tone on the other line, he smirked, "Let's just say you owe me."

Alex cocked an eyebrow as her boyfriend ended the mysterious call. Tilting her head, she surveyed him with a knowing eye. "You really have to learn how to curtail this superhero complex of yours."

Riley smirked, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, babe, you know the chicks dig spandex…"

Alex frowned skeptically, "Don't you think Rory will be a little bit offended that you're helping her? I mean, she's trying to prove that she can make it in the journalism world. Don't you think that includes finding her own work?"

Riley shook his head, "I may be doing her a favor, but it's not like I'm guaranteeing her the job. I'm simply laying the foundations, putting her foot through the door. It's like…guiding the higher powers in the right direction. Her skill, talent and credentials will land her the rest."

Alex grinned, pecking a quick kiss to his lips, "You're cute when you're helping someone."

Riley laughed, reciprocating the gesture with a kiss to her forehead, "Well, I can't say I don't enjoy sticking it to Mitchum Huntzberger…Imagine the look on his face when he sees where Rory's landed herself…"

Together, the couple made their way in the direction of Rory and Tristan, and as they caught up with their two friends, Alex gave a start as her wandering gaze locking onto a familiar face, but as she looked again, it was gone. Shrugging the sight off, she reverted her attention to her handsome companion, snuggling closer to his side. Yep, _this_ was how everything was supposed to be.

- - -

Back in Connecticut, Declan Rochester Finnegan, III realized something as he hovered before the doorway to Paris Gellar's apartment: he never had to deal with people before. Thankfully, his most memorable interactions with a fellow counterpart was limited to his close-knit group of friends or the bar closest to campus. Since that was the case, most of the time either he or his significant other were way past the stage of coherent conversation or meaningful exchanges of the finer points in life. Looking at the plain door that was Paris Gellar's apartment, Finn could only hope that his wits sober were just as strong as his alcohol tolerance, and the Aussie found himself yearning for the aforementioned source of his perpetual bravado.

At his knock, the doorway flew open to display Paris Gellar's face. The flash of surprise as she recognized the lean figure framed in her doorway vanished as soon as it appeared and she appraised Finn with unbridled skepticism. "Declan."

Finn wrinkled his nose at the use of his first name, "Please, love, no one has called me by my first name since I learned how to spell it. My friends call me Finn."

Paris only cocked an eyebrow, regarding the Australian with a reproving eye as she stepped back to allow him entrance, repeating her prior address. "Declan."

Finn snorted, shaking his head in amusement. Paris Gellar always did appeal to his will for the challenge. "Touché…" Shuffling nervously, he jammed his hands into the pocket of his jacket. "Look, I know I'm not your most favorite person and I'm positive there is a bevy of people you would rather converse with than me, but I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find our beloved Reporter Girl."

Paris leveled him with another even stare. "Not if you're going to tell Huntzberger so that he can beg for forgiveness. She's with Tristan, and I can bet that by the end of the month, those two are finally going to acknowledge that they are meant for each other, get their heads out of their asses, and finally get together."

Finn waved a dismissive hand. "Been there, done that. I know Rory already kicked Huntz to the curb when he popped into the Big Apple completely unannounced and unapologetic. I would ask him to divulge that particular form of information, but he and I are having a bit of a man tiff, so he's not going to readily give me aforementioned information." Finn shook his head in exasperation. "Even if it is to clean up his mess."

Paris' eyebrows shot skyward in wry amusement. "Man tiff?"

"Similar to a girl fight minus the slapping and screeching." Finn explained offhandedly. "Much more scowling and male posturing."

Not bothering to comprehend his previous statement, Paris maintained her uncertainty. "So what exactly are you going up to New York to do?"

Finn shrugged helplessly. "Beg for pardon from Rory? Hope she doesn't let this get in the way of our friendship? Extend the olive branch towards Alexandra?" Finn shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that Reporter Girl means a lot to me, and I don't want to lose her as a friend. And if doing that means satisfying this palpable urge to see both parties and drop down on my knees for a reason completely platonic, then so be it."

Paris regarded the Aussie with a skeptical eye. She had experienced limited interactions with Declan Finnegan, many of them projecting him in a not-too savory light. She had never liked Logan Huntzberger, maybe it was because of her preference that her two best friends were paired together, and in her eyes, Logan Huntzberger was a cheap, immature Tristan Dugrey knockoff, and Declan Finnegan's association with the newspaper heir hadn't left a good impression with her. But as Paris stared into his deep brown eyes shining with genuine sincerity, she felt her resolve slowly fade away, yielding to a slight disbelief of the hold Rory Gilmore had over the men in her life.

"They're staying at Janlan Dugrey's penthouse condo in the center of the city. You honestly can't miss it. If you get lost, call the only Dugrey in the book."

Crossing over to her desk, Paris extracted a package, turning back to Finn. "Oh. And since you're going, can you give these to Rory?"

Finn grunted as Paris tossed a thick, manila folder into his lap. Flipping through the contents, his dark brows drew together in confusion. "What's all this?"

"Rory's transcripts, various articles from the _Franklin_ and her best ones from the _Yale Daily News_." Paris answered briskly, rearranging the papers to their previous state of organization. "Riley asked for them and God only knows what interview his superhero complex has landed her now."

"Ookay…" Finn rose, tucking the package beneath his arm. Pausing, he turned to face her, a contemplative glint to his exotic features. "Why don't you come with me?"

Paris whipped towards him, unsure if she had heard him correctly, "Excuse me?"

"Come with me." Finn repeated, "Accompany me to New York. Allow me to escort you through the fabulous Big Apple."

Paris frowned, her comprehension yet to catch up to her. "You want _me_ to come with _you_?"

"Yes."

At his insistent answer, Paris cocked her head in confusion, unsure of what higher power could possibly prompt the Australian to invite her along on his jaunt to New York. "Why?"

"The pleasure of your company, of course." Finn replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. Sobering quickly, he sighed. "I just…I don't know if I can go alone. This kind of thing needs moral support, and I seriously doubt I'll find it from my blokes Logan and Colin. The sensitivity thing is a bit lost on them."

Paris turned away, unwilling to allow Finn to glimpse the hesitation that skated across her features. "I…can't."

Finn only quirked an eyebrow at her hesitation, noticeably uncharacteristic in the strong young woman. "You can't? I can only assume that there's some kind of reason for that."

"Oh yes." Paris muttered, her hands twisting before her. "One very glaring reason."

Finn gestured with a hand, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Proceed…"

Paris exhaled deeply, reluctant to state her aforementioned reason, "Riley Beaumont."

Finn recoiled in surprise, "Beaumont? Alexandra Dugrey's guard dog, Riley Beaumont? Star Bulldog soccer player, Riley Beaumont?" Catching the hesitancy in Paris' deep brown eyes, Finn shook his head incredulously. "What could possibly be between you two?"

As though the subject brought a sudden burden to her shoulders, Paris' posture slumped down with fatigue. "It's…complicated."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Is that some kind of obligatory response that all girls think up to divert the conversation?"

Paris' head snapped upward, a dangerous flash skating across the deep sepia of her gaze as she glared at the Aussie. "Look, I don't owe you an explanation. We hardly know each other and we sure aren't friends."

Seeing his err, Finn held his hands up in an effort to stave a Gellar tirade. "I'm sorry. I just…I don't know who to go to. My friendships don't have the profundity of yours and Rory's." Gesturing with his hands, Finn continued to keep a safe distance from the shorter blonde.

"Uncomplicate it for me."

Sensing his legitimate repentance, Paris sank down in the desk chair across from the sofa. "We…pseudo-dated in high school."

Finn tilted his head, his confusion prominent in his intense chocolate eyes. "Pseudo-dated?"

Paris' stare dropped down to her lap as she fiddled with the bracelet clasped around her wrist, her memories taking her back to a simpler time. "Tristan came home from military school on vacation and brought Riley with him. We connected while they were here and we had our moments but never really got to the actual act of a date. We knew that trying a long-distance relationship was pointless so we agreed to see other people." Paris ran a hand through her long blonde hair, the pain apparent in her expression.

"By the time he came back to Connecticut, I had already moved on."

Finn's brow furrowed as he contemplated a situation he had never experienced. "Okay…so he's a fling. So what? Why should that stop you?"

An impatient breath flew from Paris' nostrils as she glanced away, her annoyance displayed across her features. "We never had closure. I've run into him at times, but he was single or I was single…There is just too much unfinished business between us. He's happy with Alex, and she's the most alive she's been since…" She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably considering her companion's involvement with the situation she was alluding to. As her eyes met Finn's, Paris was surprised to see a sheen of genuine remorse shining in the dark brown spheres. Finn heaved a lethargic sigh, shaking his head.

"Since Huntz broke her."

Paris nodded. "Yeah. I refuse to allow anything to complicate their relationship. Not when Alex needs this."

Finn scoffed, a plan formulating in his head. No one could deny Declan Finnegan of his ingenuity. "Wow. That is a great bunch of bullshit."

Paris glared. "Excuse me?"

Seeing her begin to rile up, Finn went with the scheme brewing in his head. "I commend this noble attitude you have, Gellar, but I think you're just forcing yourself to believe that bloody piece of fabrication in order to avoid this confrontation."

Paris snorted indelicately, whirling away from him. "You're crazy."

Finn quirked an eyebrow in agreement. "Yes, I have been accused of that many a time. But that's when my principles have been slightly compromised by the lovely temptations of various spirits, and you've evading the subject."

Finn played with the manila folder still in his lap, "Look, I never agreed with the way Logan dealt with that situation, and I more than concur with the fact that sometimes he can be a bloody piss-wit. But it's apparent to me that she's beginning to move on from all that. If Beaumont and Alexandra were really as secure in their relationship as you claim them to be, your appearance should be a minor detail, present for the sole purpose of what you, yourself, say you're aiming for."

Slightly thrown at the eloquence the perpetually inebriated Aussie displayed in his sober state, Paris could only manage a weak exhale. "And that is?"

Finn shrugged. "Closure. Both of them are Yale-educated. They should understand that after all these years, you want closure to what was – or wasn't – the relationship between you and Beaumont." Finn's eyebrows shot skyward as he treated his female companion with a knowing stare.

"I would think you had a stronger sense of character than that, Gellar…"

Paris narrowed her eyes, oblivious to the blatant trap the Australian was beginning to set. "That's rich, _you're_ lecturing _me_ on character?"

Finn could sense his victory looming as he put on his most annoying smirk. "Look, why don't you just admit that you're scared and save both of us this prolonged argument?"

Paris practically swelled with indignation. "I'm not scared, _Declan_." Whirling to square up to him, Paris stared him down, tilting her head up to stand nose to nose before him. "You know what? I'm coming with you just so I can prove it."

The annoying quality to Finn's smirk relaxed to one of pleased triumph as his voice softened to an intimate murmur. "That's what I like to hear."

As realization bloomed upon her stern features, Paris retracted a step, her head shaking in bemused surrender. "You're good, Finnegan, I'll give you that."

Beaming with the spirit of the challenge, Finn chuckled in reply. "It wasn't easy, Gellar. I'll give _you_ that."

- - -

"Tell me!" Rory pushed anxiously at Tristan's arm, brandishing a sandwich in her other hand.

Tristan smiled teasingly, leaning away from her insistent shoves. "I denno…"

Immediately, Rory's bottom lip stuck out in a pout, curious about the military school story Tristan had halted in his narration. "C'mon, Tris. Tell me!"

Seeing her girlish impatience, Tristan acquiesced, nodding his head in surrender. "Okay, well, this one time, me and Beau –"

"Beau and _I_." Rory interjected. Leaning playfully in, she threw a small tomato at Tristan's smirk. "Gosh, Dugrey, I would think an esteemed Stanford scholar would use proper grammar when speaking."

A mock-glower overshadowed Tristan's face as he launched the offending projectile back to his companion. "Shaddup, Gilmore. I'm not the one who can't seem to remember the correct use of 'whom.'"

Rory's mouth dropped open in indignation. "Not true! I happen to know you use 'whom' if the subject in question follows a preposition."

Tristan snorted. "Nerd."

One dainty hand shot out to thump him solidly on the chest. "Jerk!"

"Bookworm." Tristan countered.

Rory stuck her tongue out. "Idiot."

"Geekazoid."

Rory wrinkled her nose in distaste at the moniker. "Dipwad."

A smirk curled the corner of Tristan's mouth. "_Mary_."

"_Lothario_."

Tristan grinned, holding one hand to his chest. "Oh, stop, you're gonna make me blush with all the foreplay."

Rory's face lit up in triumph. "Ha! I win!"

One eyebrow quirked upward in confusion. "You win what?"

"You stopped the flow of insults." Rory explained, one finger thrusting into his chest. "You owe me a coffee!"

"So the giant finger, the three chili dogs, the frozen lemonade, the Yankees jersey, and this lunch is completely disregarded?" Tristan shot back, flicking her half-eaten sandwich in emphasis.

Rory smiled winningly at her companion, "No. Because you did them with your everlasting love, not to mention your everlasting money. I take that kind of affection into account."

Tristan chuckled, "If I knew all I had to do was buy your affection, I would have just bought you your very own Starbucks chain."

Rory's interest piqued immediately. "Can you do that?"

Tristan shrugged in response, "It's possible with all of Granddad's connections…"

Rory's features adopted a contemplative light as she pondered the possibilities. "Hmm…"

Knowing the expression gracing her visage, Tristan wagged a cautionary finger in her face. "Don't even think about it. I already bought your birthday present."

"Yes, but you also missed my last birthday, Christmas, and your birthday." Rory replied playfully.

Tristan cocked his head in confusion. "I buy _you_ a present for _my_ birthday?"

"What?" Rory returned his stare innocently, "You have a lot to make up for."

Tristan narrowed his eyes, "And _you're_ exempt from all of that?"

Rory sent him an admonitory glance, "You don't think dating Logan was punishment enough?"

Tristan smirked, "What? You might be a glutton for punishment."

"Which explains why I hang around with you…" Rory retorted.

"There you go with the foreplay again." Tristan sing-songed, poking her side jokingly.

Rory sighed in exasperation. "You're weird."

"And you're odd." Tristan countered, shrugging his compliance, "We're even."

Rory grinned her assent, lying back to stare up at the man beside her. Tristan tilted his head in her direction. "So what were we talking about again?"

Rory laughed, "You mean before that extended aside?"

"Uh-huh."

"You were going to tell me a story about another exploit at Amherst."

"Oh, right…" Tristan joined her on the blanket, flopping over on his stomach, resting his head on crossed arms, staring into her eyes as she followed suit. "Forget it. I forgot anyway. Beau and I have pulled off way too many pranks to keep track of the ones I told you already…"

Rory stared into his navy eyes, her own blue spheres alight with laughter. "You know, sometimes the things you two do remind me of…" She trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed.

Tristan waited, "Of? Of whom?"

Rory glanced up at him through lowered eyelashes as she sat up. "Jess…"

Tristan quirked an eyebrow upward in surprise as he hefted himself up to stare directly in her eyes. "Really?"

Rory nodded, "Yeah. I think had it not been for Jess' absolute jealousy at our friendship, not to mention the fact that he was completely threatened at your mere presence in my life, you two probably would have been good friends. You're alike in many ways."

Tristan chuckled, "Wait, you're telling me _Diner Dude, Jr_. and _I_ have something in common?" His smirk appeared onto his lips. "Like what, pray tell?"

Rory shrugged, "Well, there's the obvious complete disregard of all social norms and municipal laws. Both of you are bad individually, I'd hate to think of all the civil disobedience the two of you would get into together."

Tristan reclined his head, unable to refute her claim. "True."

A wide smile spread across Rory's face as she tucked a strand of her chocolate hair behind her ear. "And you both liked to drive Dean absolutely mad."

Tristan smirked, holding his hands up in surrender. "What? You say that like it's a bad thing. Beanie was so susceptible. His would bristle so much that even his hair un-flopped."

Nudging her playfully, Tristan lay back on his elbows, "So what was this one instance of Jess-induced infuriation?"

Rory scooted down, laying her head on his lap, "Well, every year, we have this kind of festival thing where every woman in town makes a basket filled with food and other goodies. The men of the town bid on each of the baskets, and the highest bidder gets the basket and a lunch date with whomever made it."

Rory curled up against his stomach, looking into his navy eyes as they sparkled with interest. "So I made a wonderfully concocted offering with the sole intent that Dean would win the basket as well as the date…"

"When Jess swooped in and out-bid him." Tristan finished. Chuckling, he absently raked his fingers through the cocoa hair splayed across his jean-clad legs. "I can only imagine the delightful shade of puce Beanie's face adopted." Sobering, he glanced down at the top of Rory's head.

"I wish I was there. I would've out-bid them all."

Rory snorted, "Why? To provide Dean with another reason to hate you?"

A wry smile crossed his features. "He doesn't need any more. I provided him with a wonderful black eye and cut lip _twice_, I made him look like an idiot countless times, I talk circles around him with no chance for His Royal Bagness to reciprocate, making him look even more obtuse, _and_ – as he claims – I am solely responsible for your breakup the second time around." Tristan smirked, "What more could he possibly hate me for?"

As Rory laughed her agreement, a shrug lifted Tristan's shoulders, "I denno, that would have been a great windfall and all, but the prospect of a day with you makes it all a bit more appealing."

"You'd shell out anywhere between fifty and one hundred dollars to spend a day with me and share a lunch that has the edibility akin to wet socks?"

Tristan cast a hasty glance down at Rory, "Uh, what exactly did you pack in your lunch basket?"

A teasing smirk not unlike his own lofted a corner of her mouth, "Nothing that would have been detrimental to your health."

"Oh. Good." Tristan grinned, "In that case, yes. Of course I would have. Spending time with you is worth any amount of money, Rory. You know that." Thinking of Rory's hulking Neanderthal ex-boyfriend, Tristan frowned.

"Whatever happened to the Beanstalk after…"

Catching the timeframe he was alluding to, Rory withheld a sigh, "That amazing debacle of a night?" Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rory shrugged.

"Lindsay was none the wiser to her husband's botched indiscretion. They're still married and still living in Stars Hollow for what I know. I know for a fact that Dean is absolutely miserable, but he refuses to divorce Lindsay in order to make a point." Rory shook her head.

"Love is supposed to be magical and special, not an obligation. I could never stand to marry someone without love."

Tristan grinned. "I kinda like that idea. The whole making a basket with the idea that someone who harbors a crush or maybe an unrequited love can show their affection by bidding. Plus there's the lunch that follows. It's got to be a great feeling."

Rory laughed, "That's funny. My mom thought the same thing. She dragged Luke out to the bidding so she would be spared from a blind date with one of Ms. Patty's hopeful candidates."

Tristan chuckled, his chest shaking with the action, "He's a good man. Nothing is too extreme for our Gilmore girls."

Rory paused as his words washed over her, sitting up to face him. "'Our Gilmore girls?'"

This time, it was Tristan's turn to pause as he digested what he had just allowed to escape from his mouth, "Yes, Rory you're my Gilmore girl. I'm fully aware you are a strong-willed, independent woman of the twenty-first century, but you'll always be my girl." Tentatively, one hand drifted upward to gently caress her cheek. "No other woman resides in my heart."

Unsure of how to respond, wondering if she should take his words at face value or believe there was an underlying connotation, Rory let a feeble smile to cross her face, "Don't let your sister hear that."

As though he understood her hesitation, Tristan chuckled good-naturedly, "Alex hasn't been my girl for a long time. Beau's got that covered."

For perhaps the umpteenth time in their acquaintance, Rory was struck by how well Tristan was able to read her. It was as though he held the powers of an empath only when it concerned her. "Aw, shucks, Dugrey, there you go with those random romantic gestures. You can make a girl swoon like no other."

His smirk once again made its appearance, "Damn, straight, Gilmore. But don't fret. I save the best ones for you."

Rory laughed, feeling it safer to change the subject, "You seem to be better than yesterday."

Tristan chuckled, easing back onto the blanket he had spread on the mid-afternoon grass. "Drinking away my sorrows was a pretty potent remedy, and I had the headache to prove it."

Sobering up, he gently stroked the brunette hair splayed across his stomach. "Brandon's dead. Relegated to the past tense, and I figure I can do two things. I can wallow in this self-pitying deprecation, curse the heavens, and seek revenge on the cause of his death. Or I can accept the fact that I'll have to refer to him in that pesky past tense."

Tristan sighed, a long, weary exhale filled with acceptance. "The problem with the former is that it's too much work. There are too many people responsible for Brandon's lack of living. The president, the people who made the bomb…there are too many variables. I would be cursing every other person on this planet. Six degrees of separation and all that. The problem with the latter is that it'll take awhile. I mean, how can I accept one of my closest friends is dead? How can I continue walking this earth while he doesn't? And the problem with both is that the pain will never go away. There's always gonna be a hole in my heart where he resides. Every day I live, I'll be reminded that Brandon isn't."

Tristan shrugged, his fingers sifting through Rory's hair, smiling at the slight purr of pleasure elicited from her throat. "So the best thing is to just keep going and keep honoring his memory." Tristan grinned wistfully, "He'd want that. He wasn't too keen on pity. It made him mad."

Rory grasped his hand, twining their fingers together, "You're a really good friend, Tristan. You always have been."

Tristan lowered his head, glancing down at her through his long eyelashes. "That's all I ever wanted to be."

Rory hesitated, her question lingering at the tip of her tongue, dormant for so many years. "Are you sure about that?"

A lethargic sigh wracked Tristan's chest, "I'm not gonna lie, Rory. I wanted to be more, and I still do. I felt something that night we slept together, and I know you did too. I mean, who knows where we would have gone if we hadn't gotten into that stupid fight? I've seen you go through boyfriends, and I've seen what they've done wrong. Dean was a jealous ass whose insecurities were unable to handle the idea of us being friends, Jess pushed you too hard into the physical intimacy of a relationship and didn't realize you're too special to simply walk away from, Logan is a manipulative bastard who can't own up to his mistakes to save his life…"

Tristan looked deep into the brilliant blue spheres opposite his, his own eyes penetrating into the depths of Rory's gaze, "I don't want to make the same mistakes they did, Rory. I want to be the last guy you'll ever need. I want to be the one you think about first thing in the morning and the one who's in your dreams at night. I want to be the only one occupying your heart. I want to be yours, mind, body, and soul…"

Rory could only gape up at him, feeling the overwhelming weight of what he had just divulged to her. She wanted to respond, to say the same, but her mouth stubbornly denied her that impulse.

Tristan sighed again, "I'm not saying we should jump into something. You just broke up with Logan. I'm just hoping the possibility's out there."

Finally regaining her wits, Rory slid up his body until they were nose to nose. Brushing a soft, gentle kiss across his lips, she snuggled down into the crook of his neck, sighing with contentment as his arms secured themselves around her.

"It's always out there, Tris."

- - -

Along the highway in route to New York, Paris chanced a glance at her unlikely companion, his long frame sprawled across her front seat. Declan Finnegan had sure turned out to be some kind of a surprise. She had made it a point to disassociate herself from Logan Huntzberger and his merry band of nitwits for together, they were simply insufferable nincompoops. But seeing Finn and his disposition away from his other two jerkwads, Paris was beginning to see him in a completely new light.

"So what is this situation between you and Beaumont?" His deep timbre cut through her thoughts, tinged with the tone of his native Australia.

Paris refused to look him in the eye, determinedly keeping her focus onto the stretch of highway before them, "I already explained this to you, Declan."

At the use of his first name, Finn hefted a lethargic sigh, "Love, you are free to call me Finn. I won't die of shock."

Paris ignored him, choosing instead to answer his first question, "We're…unfinished business." Her hands sliding over the slick grip of the steering wheel, Paris shrugged.

"I don't know, Riley's got this way about him. He's completely unassuming, like he has no idea of the extent of his charm and looks. It's like he's absolutely oblivious to the fact that girls are swooning at his feet to get closer to him."

Finn snorted indelicately, shaking his head, "You make him sound like a bloody God."

Paris scoffed, "He's not. He's far from that. Riley has flaws and faults just like everyone else. He just deals with them differently. He sees them as a challenge. For one, he has trouble controlling his emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve and doesn't bother masking what he's feeling. All you have to do is look into his eyes and everything's displayed for all to see."

Paris chanced a glance in Finn's direction to find him regarding her with a dubious eye. Paris sighed, venting her knowledge of the psyche of one Riley Beaumont. "He rushes too quickly into situations without bothering to weigh the repercussions. He feels too violently and upholds his convictions with an almost blind faith. And at times, he's too damn vulnerable for his own good." Once again, another sigh wracked her body, this one filled with remorse.

"If he wasn't, none of this would have ever happened."

"Wow, Gellar."

Paris' eyes snapped to her companion, unsure of his sudden outburst, "What, Finnegan?"

A roguish smirk curled a corner of his lush lips, "You continue to amaze me."

Confused, Paris turned her full attention to the Aussie, "Excuse me?"

"Have you ever listened to the gossip surrounding Beaumont?" Finn asked, his deep brown stare boring into Paris' own amber eyes. A laughing smirk lifting his mouth, Finn chuckled. "It's hard not to, anything bearing his name – pseudonym or otherwise – is considered a strikingly hot commodity. Personally, that's not surprising. If you're a six-three, leanly muscled Adonis with eyes a shade no one else has seen before and naturally tousled hair, your name is bound to pop up pretty often in the Yale gossip circles. When someone like Riley is noticeably solo in his few social appearances, people are going to talk."

Finn grinned at Paris' expression, not even bothering to hide her curiosity. "At first, the murmurs were that our young Master Beaumont was partial to the more manly state of affairs, but then fluttering started to emerge stating he had his heart crushed in high school and was yet to recover, effectively stemming the flow of hysterics from all straight women on campus." Finn chuckled, reclining further within the plush seats.

"Can't say the same for the homosexual men, however."

Finn's gaze drifted to Paris as a cheeky grin splayed across his face. "I can hardly fathom that you, Paris Gellar, was the cold-hearted vixen that trampled upon Beaumont's fragile and susceptible heart."

Paris recoiled, her eyes hardening in offense. "What, you don't think I'm desirable?"

Finn tilted his head. "No. Hardly so." A thoughtful look gracing his features, Finn brought a hand up to his chin, "Personally, I believe your upfront, aggressive disposition is quite the turn-on to a man who enjoys the challenge, like myself. I don't necessarily picture Beaumont as the man willing to take one that challenge."

Paris huffed out a laugh in concurrence. "Neither did I. Believe me, everything took me completely by surprise. At first, it was simply attraction. No one is going to deny Riley isn't a gorgeous guy. But there's also his personality, and that warmth and charisma to him. It happened all so suddenly. I'd like to think of myself as one with a good amount of self-control, but with Riley…my control was completely out of my capacity. Everything about him was just so overwhelming, it was like skydiving with no rhyme or reason, without even the guarantee of a parachute or a destination."

A lengthy sigh followed. "I fell for him so hard and so fast that, to be honest, it scared the living daylights out of me. I mean, I, Paris Gellar, master of discipline and restraint, was completely ga-ga over some guy. It was completely incomprehensible, let alone ridiculous."

"So what happened? If you were so taken with the bugger, why aren't you two together now?" Finn ventured, his tone inquisitive yet gentle.

"Because exactly why I said." Paris murmured, her eyes dropping down. "Riley was everything exciting about a relationship: passion, intrigue, lust. But he wasn't safe. I knew that I could lose myself over him. I knew things with him would be volatile, precarious to a fault. I couldn't allow myself take a chance on that knowing the ramifications could be devastating. So I did what I thought was best: I moved on."

Finn's brow creased with his confusion. "You moved on? Just like that."

Paris could only shrug in response. "Yeah. I pushed everything away. My first real boyfriend, Jamie was everything Riley wasn't. He was safe, he was predictable, he was almost boring. Being with Jamie was like walking through a field of fire with an extinguisher. Being with Riley was like walking through a fire with a stick of dynamite. I knew that if I broke up with Jamie or he broke up with me, it wouldn't bring about mass desolation. I wouldn't hole myself in my room, sobbing into one of his shirts just so I can commit the smell of him to memory. Jamie simply didn't have the power Riley did over me."

Paris rotated to look Finn in the eye, one shade of brown meeting another. "I don't regret many things in my life. I prefer to analyze and proceed. But there are some exceptions. One is my complete meltdown on live television, never to be mentioned again, may I add. Another is that Riley and I never really explored where our relationship could possibly go. But he's happy with Alex, and I'm not going to jeopardize that just to appease a long-standing string of 'what ifs.'"

"So that's it?"

Paris gave a toss of her head in indignation. "What more do you want me to say, Declan? I hate to break it to you, but you're not exactly my desired audience."

"If you're so hung up on Beaumont, why have I seen you with a bevy of gentleman at one point or another? Why didn't you approach Beaumont when he was single?" Finn countered, matching Paris' stare evenly.

A sigh of regret hung heavy in the air. "One thing was we never had the best timing. I had no idea he had chosen to go to Yale. I always figured he would follow Tristan to California. When I did realize we occupied the same state, let alone the same university, I was still in a relationship."

A helpless shrug lofted Paris' shoulders. "I don't know, I just wanted someone. But…after Doyle, I'm tired of pretending. I went along with these relationships just so I can chase away this loneliness I felt. I really did care for all of them, Jamie, Doyle. But they were all distractions. Even Asher, with all his intimidating knowledge, prestige, and experience didn't possess the…ambiance of pure exhilaration Riley did. I was attracted to all of them, but they were all just lukewarm, substandard versions of what I know a relationship can be like."

Paris rambled on, lost in the flood of emotions she had stifled for so long. "I want the explosiveness, the unpredictability, the _passion_ I felt with Riley. I'm just scared that I had found that, only to have thrown it all away. I'm scared that no one will make me feel the things that he did. Riley looked at me with such unbridled ardor. I want that again. I want to be cherished again."

"You'll find that person, love. You weren't searching for him when Riley appeared. I don't think you'll be searching for him when the next one does."

Paris glanced sideways at his profile, her tone skeptical in reply. "How do you know there'll be a next one?"

Finn allowed his mouth to curl upwards into a warm smile. Paris stared for a moment, mesmerized by the simple gesture and how nicely it accentuated his exotic features as his eyes crinkled lightly at the corners. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed gently.

"Because you're an amazing woman, Paris Gellar, and the male population would be stupid to continually pass you up. Someone is going to be staggered by you, Gellar. Just you wait."

Paris wasn't sure how, but his words oddly comforted her. Staring into his deep brown eyes, shining with a genuine sincerity and sparkling with a warmth, Paris felt herself slip away into the endless sepia pools. Mutely, she nodded, a smile of her own working its way onto her face.

"Thanks…Finn."

- - -

Back in New York, the other half of the quartet watched their companions dance around each other with amused eyes. Wrapped up in Riley's warm embrace, Alex shook her head at the infallible tango her brother and Rory had engaged in for the past three years.

"Damn, are they going to get it on yet?"

Riley's warm breath tickled her ear as his husky chuckle rumbled through his throat, "Huh. Patience, babe. You know they're playing the whole 'epic love' thing out to it's fullest. They just need one more misstep to make the journey complete."

Throwing back a light elbow that made contact with his side, Alex hushed her boyfriend hurriedly, "Don't say that. You're gonna jinx it. Those two have had enough drama for a century's worth of couples."

Riley waved a dismissive hand, "Pssh…this one's for the ages. You know they don't write romantic novels about the relationships that come easy."

A crease appeared in her forehead as Alex turned her gaze in his direction, "Why? Are you planning to write one?"

Riley only shrugged, "Maybe."

At his short response, Alex cocked an eyebrow. "So that's a yes."

Riley smirked, "I never said that."

Alex rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Riley, every word out of your mouth is characteristic to any piece of good literature. You don't say something that doesn't have a meaning, blatant or within a connotation."

Another infuriating smirk was her only reply. "Hm...then shouldn't that be a clue, m'dear?"

Alex huffed, turning back around to face the goings-on of their fellow friends. "You're impossible."

"Yes, but it makes my plots oh-so intriguing…" Riley replied flippantly.

"I can't believe you're going to turn your friends' lives into a work of fiction." Alex retorted.

Riley threw a hand up, "Oh, c'mon, babe. It's not like I'm writing a trashy romance novel. Whatever the story will end up being will be of the best quality. That's how much I respect and revere them both and I would never do them any sort of injustice. I wouldn't use their real names and its not like people will ever know." Riley grinned, his eyebrows waggling surreptitiously.

"Besides, you can't deny that this story between them won't make for good literature."

Alex shrugged her concurrence. "True. This 'epic love' story, as you claim, would be rather intriguing to the masses."

Riley laughed. "Damn straight, especially if I wrote it…"

"Cocky weenie."

Riley recoiled in surprise, his eyes diverting to his girlfriend. "Did you really just call me a weenie? I haven't been called a weenie since like the third grade."

Alex giggled as his fingers tickled her sides. Leaning back into his embrace, she rotated to glance into his silver eyes. "So what would you write about our love story?"

Riley smiled, thinking for a moment. "Hm…It would be about a beautiful young lady who the land admires and cherishes. But she is forced to live with this evil lord that her father owes money to as a payment. While in the lord's manor, she stumbles across this roguish bandit who loves to irritate the lord as well as the surrounding nobles as she is in the market. He is, of course, a charming and handsome scoundrel who serves a perfect foil to the evil lord. Naturally, he excites her, and she is intrigued by him, and their relationship soon gives way to passion. They fall in love and the lord tries to sabotage their relationship and marry the lady. Of course, the bandit saves the lady, defeats the lord, and in a wonderful example of _deus ex machina_, the bandit turns out to be the long-lost son of the king of the realm and is allowed to marry the lady."

Alex laughed, "That's your story?"

Riley's eyebrows shot skyward in defense. "Well, it will definitely be more interesting. Of course, I would never implement _deus ex machina_. That's just unprofessional. As an insightful and astute writer, I would drop subtle hints as well as minute clues that my perceptive readers will be able to piece together and figure out that lovely plot twist."

Alex rolled her eyes, "Well, I'm glad you would never insult the intelligence of your readers, Riley."

"Of course not." Riley answered truthfully, "They don't question mine when they read each book…"

Alex sighed, drawing his arms tighter around her frame. "I'm glad we're here."

"Yeah." Riley agreed, her eyes closing in contentment. "Although the initial motive wasn't exactly desirable, it was kind of nice to get away from the drama in Hartford."

Alex lay her head against his shoulder, her voice lowering to a despondent tenor. "Too bad we have to go back."

"Yep. One can only run so far before everything catches up…Kinda sucks that way," Riley mused.

"I like it like this, Riley. Just us."

Riley smiled indulgently, his lips pressing into her hair, "Me too, babe, me too…"

The pair sat together for awhile, basking in the unadulterated glow of the mid-afternoon sun. As the comfortable silence washed over them, Alex fidgeted slightly, "Um…I've been meaning to ask you…"

As she tensed in his arms, Riley frowned, his eyes alight with concern, "What?"

"Do you remember last night?"

Riley smirked, recalling the previous events she was alluding to. "You mean aside from the massive amounts of alcohol your brother and I consumed?"

At Alex's slight nod, Riley leaned in, turning her face even to his, his voice lowering to an intimate whisper. "Well, I distinctly remember professing my undying love to a certain someone, but my exact words seem to escape my recollection."

Alex smiled, shifting in his lap, her arms winding around his neck. "I believe your exact words were 'I love you, Ali.' Doesn't get anymore straight forward than that, Beau."

Riley's face took on a thoughtful sheen. "Hm…so they were. And I assume you reciprocated?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

His eyes suddenly cast downward, looking up at her through lowered lashes, "Because I meant it, you know. My state of mind may have been compromised, but that doesn't mean it wasn't genuine." Riley craned his neck to gaze into her sky blue eyes.

"I do love you, Ali."

Alex smiled, brushing a strand of his hair away from the eyes she cherished so much. "I know you do, Riley. And I love you too."

Stretching her neck upward, Alex caught his lips in hers, pouring all her gratitude in a simple gesture. Riley's arms tightened around her slim frame as his mouth branded hers with scorching kisses. The world around the pair spun as they lost themselves in the heated liplock.

"Alexandra?"

At the summons, Alex wrenched herself away from Riley, her head whipping towards the source, wiping clandestinely at her lips. As her eyes met the hazel spheres glancing down in her direction with a slight curiosity, Riley was surprised when Alex's own sapphire spheres lit up with excitement at the slightly familiar face.

"Ian!"

As his girlfriend jumped up, greeting their new companion with an exuberant hug, Riley sighed, their moment shattered. Running a hand through his hair, he lay back on his elbows observing the two teenagers in their enthusiastic greeting. Catching the glimmer in Alex's eyes, Riley failed to impede the small spark of jealousy that bloomed beneath his psyche. And as the young man with Alex twirled her around amidst her laughter of delight, a strong sensation of foreboding filled his conscious mind, and Riley could only sense that the drama they had labored to escape finally had caught up to them.

_Well, there you go. I hope you all like it. Remember how I used to pester you all about paying attention to details? Well, I hope you still do. I may have used a name in this chapter that I've used before. Where, you may ask? Well, a bit of backtracking may be useful…Next, we will see the repercussions of all the new faces in New York and the impact it has on all of our couples. I plan for a small trip to Broadway to catch up with Brandon's mother, whom I all hope you remember is a stage actress. I'm looking for suggestions for potential plays so leave them in a review. If I see one I like, I may use a name to go along with it. So leave your desired character in the review as well, and I'll write that character into the story as a cameo role. It may be male or female, your choice. The end is pretty near, folks, and I hope to see you a bit earlier than last time…I hope._

_Roxy_


	16. I've Been Housing All This Doubt

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing_

_Okay all, here is the next chapter. I apologize for the delay, but my muse was exhausted from trying to think up the last chapter. So, in this chapter, we have a lot of dialogue, a lot of explanations, and a lot of tensions. Once again, nothing major is happening in this chapter, but we do get closure on many subjects. So we meet Riley's mother again as she performs as Elphaba in Wicked, and we see how the emergence of Finn, Paris, and Ian Michaels – yes, the same Ian Michaels who antagonized Alex in chapter 4 – will affect our couples._

_Onward_!

**Chapter 16**

_I've Been Housing All This Doubt and Insecurity_

Riley stared bemused at the boy who had his girlfriend in a vice grip twirling her with a comfortable acquaintance Riley couldn't help but feel a slight sense of anxiety witnessing. Shifting slightly on his heels, he cleared his throat, alerting the attention of his two counterparts. Alex broke away from the hold around her waist, whirling to face her boyfriend, her face flushed with excitement.

"Oh, gosh! I'm sorry." Alex gestured to the boy beside her, her eyes alight with happiness. "Riley, this is Ian Michaels. Ian, this is my boyfriend, Riley Beaumont."

Riley surveyed the other boy. He was a stereotypical socialite, oozing with the casual indifference of his status and looking very much the part, seemingly coming straight out of an Abercrombie catalogue. A fitted polo stretched across his torso, the collar popped up from beneath light sweater. A pair of perfectly-worn brown corduroy pants hung over his legs, destroyed without the manual labor that would have cost half as much. His hair was flawlessly styled, teased and tousled into a carelessly windswept look that underscored the subtle highlights in his hair and must have taken enormous time, effort, and copious amounts of expensive hair products. Everything about the young teenager screamed wealth and prestige from the clothes covering his body to the expensive flip-flips on his feet. Even the sporty watch encircling his wrist glinted with the platinum setting. But as Riley gazed into the eyes of their new companion, he felt the underlying conceit and pretension radiating from the otherwise easy smile, and the aura of arrogance the boy exuded put Riley instantly on the defensive.

Maintaining the façade of affability, Riley offered his hand out to the other boy, the name ringing hauntingly familiar in his mind. Tilting his head, he regarded their new companion with a trenchant gaze.

"Ian Michaels?"

An arrogant smirk, hauntingly similar to Tristan's but lacking the underscored grace and charisma, curled the mouth as the boy visibly puffed up at the notion of being recognized. "The one and only."

Riley cocked an eyebrow, his gray eyes hardening slightly, the expression on his face clearly unamused. "I had to pry you away from my girlfriend and threaten bodily harm two years ago."

Ian's smug leer faltered a bit as he recognized the piercing pewter eyes boring into his, the accompanying tall frame and scowl unmistakable. "Oh…you're that Riley."

Riley acknowledged the claim with a brisk inclination of his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah."

Ian ran a hand through his dark hair, diverting his eyes in embarrassment as he shifted uncomfortably. "Uh…you know...that was awhile ago. I swear I'm not the same guy." An awkward laugh spluttered from his mouth. "I just needed a kick in the pants, you know?"

The intensity in Riley's gaze didn't waver in the slightest as he surveyed the boy across from him. "Sure. I can understand that."

Feeling slightly unnerved at the incisive stare, Ian rotated to face Alex, his face relaxing into an easy smile. "So, how long have you been in town?"

In response, Alex shrugged, leaning into Riley and grabbing the hand dangling from her shoulder. "A few days." Turning to face her boyfriend, Alex gestured with a hitch of her head. "Ian goes to Columbia."

A flicker of genuine interest skated across Riley's features as he returned his gaze to Ian. "Really? Majoring in what?"

"Political science…family legacy and all." Ian answered with an offhand wave. He studied the couple before him. They were extremely comfortable with one another, teeming with a closeness that seemed to radiate even as they stood apart. Tearing his gaze from the intimate way Alex's unoccupied hand had covertly snuck beneath the fabric of Riley's t-shirt and was currently stroking the concealed skin at his hip, Ian focused on the taller man. "Uh, what about you?"

Before Riley could open his mouth, Alex puffed up, her eyes shining with blatant pride. "Riley's a famous writer and he attends Yale with me. His book has been on the best seller list for a good while now."

Ian perked up with interest. "Really? What book?"

Chuckling indulgently at his girlfriend's obvious pride, Riley smacked a kiss to her forehead before rotating to Ian, "_Running in My Skivvies: The Chronicles of Military School_."

An emphatic nod of gusto bobbed Ian's head up and down. "Oh, excellent. I read that book. Hilarious."

Riley quirked a smirk barely able to conceal the skepticism veiled beneath the gesture. "Nice to know you have a good taste in literature."

"Definitely." Ian responded instantly, his fervor too overly ardent to be authentic. "The way you captured the characters was absolute magic. And the plot…simply remarkable."

"You seem very enthused." Riley deadpanned, scratching absently at the collar of his white button-up. Seriously doubting Ian's sincerity, Riley decided to humor the young teenager. "What was your favorite story?"

As a flash of alarm beamed through Ian's hazel eyes that paralleled his slight fidgeting, it was obvious the boy had never read his book, let alone knew what skivvies actually were. Ian cleared his throat, his smirk slightly forced. "Uh…well, they're all amazing. I couldn't just pick one."

Riley knew it was slightly cruel, but taking advantage of the deer-in-the-headlights expression prominent on Ian's face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, was too sweet of an opportunity to pass up. Riley ran a hand over the crown of his Yankees cap set jauntily atop his hair, shamelessly baiting the younger boy, goading him even further. "Huh. Well, your top two. I really enjoy getting feedback from fans."

Trapped in a completely hopeless situation with no prior knowledge of Riley's book and no escape route in sight, Ian smiled weakly, gesticulating feebly with his hands, "Oh, you know, the one about that guy who…you know, did that thing with the rifle…" He trailed off, catching the skeptical look blooming in Alex's sapphire eyes. "You know...that one?"

Riley simply cocked an eyebrow, "Barring an offhand mention, I don't recall writing about any weapons."

"Oh, you don't?"

Riley found himself highly entertained at the shrill squeak that escaped from Ian's mouth. He was surprised at how well he played the jackass card sometimes. Must come from spending time with Tristan…

Ian let out a nervous laugh. "It must have been a different military school book." Hastily, the young teenager rotated to Alex, studiously avoiding Riley's penetrating eyes.

"So, how long are you in the city?"

Alex looked to Riley, unsure herself of the answer. Riley shrugged in response, "A few more days."

Ian grinned in delight. "Great! How about you and I get together and catch

up? I'd love to hear about Yale."

Alex smiled, nodding her head. "That would be great."

Ian smirked, leaning in to wrap Alex in a hug, releasing her grip from Riley's hand. Riley's jaw twitched as the embrace lasted a bit longer than he would have liked, and he tugged anxiously at the bill of his cap but managed to restrain his temper. Ian pulled away, rubbing one of Alex's arms. "I'll call you. You still have the same number, right?"

Alex backed away, her hand unconsciously reaching down to find Riley's again. "Yeah, I do."

Ian's eyes flickered down to Alex's automatic return to her boyfriend, his expression carefully controlled. He shot out an amiable smile, "Awesome." Reluctantly raising his eyes to Riley's piercing gray spheres, Ian inclined his head to the taller man. "It was nice meeting you again."

Riley's mouth quirked upward in a tight smile. "Charmed."

Retreating, Ian threw a small wave back over his shoulder. "See you, Lil."

Alex returned the gesture, smiling brightly, "Later, Phil."

The use of the obviously intimate nicknames threw him a bit as the two shared knowing glances, indulging in a private joke he was clearly not privy to. Riley Beaumont never thought of himself as a jealous boyfriend, or even possessive for that matter. It simply wasn't in his personality. But seeing the warm familiarity exchanged between his girlfriend and the boy he knew to have been the bane of her existence, Riley couldn't impede the overwhelming sense of suspicion and apprehension that crept into his psyche. To be honest, he had never been placed in this position, had never felt this overwhelming urge to assert himself as the dominant source of masculine affection in Alex's life – of course barring the exception of her own brother – and Riley wasn't sure he was too happy about it. He didn't think he'd be good at playing the possessive boyfriend. Sure, he played Neanderthal Man with Ian all those years ago, but those were different circumstances. He had done it out of an obligation to Tristan. If he had done it then, it should be even easier to do it now with his heart on the line…Right?

Riley's thoughts derailed from their current course as he felt a small tug on his hand, and he looked down at Alex's inquisitive china-blue eyes. The pensive look on his face softened as he breathed in her delicate perfume, the scent intoxicating to his senses. He relaxed as her arms wound around his neck, her fingers playing with the strands of hair curling around the base of his skull.

"Hey, you okay? You looked a little gone for a second."

Riley didn't answer; he only smiled, dipping his head down and capturing his lips in his. Alex let out a surprise gasp, the sound smothered beneath her boyfriend's probing mouth. It was a kiss unlike any other Riley had bestowed upon her, teeming with invigorating passion and an almost carnal desire. She willingly parted her lips as his invading tongue sought entrance, her knees buckling beneath the heady sensations assaulting every fiber in her being. Riley's strong arms held her fast, one hand splaying across her back, the heat radiating from his fingertips as his other hand dipped to the curve of her hip, gently kneading the exposed skin. An involuntary moan rippled from her throat as Riley's soft, skillful lips halted all coherent thought except one.

Ever since Logan, Alex had found herself studiously avoiding all conceptions of sex, but with Riley, it was the only glaring urge that persistently occupied her mind, seemingly arresting all other rational notions. Everything about him emanated an unassuming sexuality, from his naturally bedroom eyes, to his lazy grin, to his hard, muscled body. Since her debacle of a relationship with Logan, she had determinedly diverted any erotically-themed impulses about a man. Until Riley.

With each moment spent in his presence, Alex found subtle things about him – the way every single t-shirt hugged his deliciously defined torso and marvelously displayed his strapping forearms and biceps firmed from his years on the Yale soccer team, the way his pants always hung just so low as to rest comfortably on his taut ass, the way his mouth would indolently quirk upward in a grin that sent all warmth pooling to her core, the way his deep, gravelly voice sent shivers rollicking up and down her spine – unnaturally erotic. Everything about him continually tested her sexual resolve as she felt her thoughts drift to the act that would consummate their relationship once and for all. Goddamn hormones.

As they parted, Riley couldn't help but smirk at the bemused look clouding Alex's eyes, knowing he had chased all residual thoughts of Ian Michaels out of her mind. "Well, that's all your doing, Ali."

Alex shook her head to regain her bearings as she cocked an eyebrow up at her boyfriend her voice relegated to a breathy gasp. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm-hmm," Riley dipped his head down, his lips latching onto a particular spot below her jaw line that elicited a sharp intake of breath, Alex's hands scrambling to clutch the lapels of his white button-up shirt. "You know that perfume of yours drives me wild." Riley's nose brushed down the smooth column of her neck before hovering over the spot where the scent lingered the strongest. His mind pictured her spritzing the perfume in the morning as she got ready for the day, a thought that sent all blood running south as he inhaled deeply.

Alex shuddered at his husky timber, "I'll make a note of that if I ever feel the urge to manipulate you using my womanly wiles."

Riley huffed out a gruff chuckle, "Trust me, babe, you don't need perfume for that…"

"Alright, Beau. What's next?"

The intrusion of a third voice broke the trance between the couple, and Riley glanced up to find Rory and Tristan approaching, Tristan's arm comfortably around Rory's shoulders.

Riley broke away from Alex, turning to face their two companions. Maintaining a possessive hold on Alex's waist, despite the obvious lack of threat, Riley grinned.

"Well, I have a surprise for you lot. But it's not until tonight. I hope you all brought your nice getups."

Rory's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Really? What kind of surprise?"

"A good one," Riley assured her, "I promise. But it's not until later. We should actually head back." His gaze dropping down to the watch where his silver cuff once sat, Riley ushered them forward.

"C'mon. You all might want to get some rest before tonight. I can guarantee you that you don't want to be tired for what I have planned."

As Rory and Tristan led the way back to Janlan's penthouse, Riley glanced down at the hand firmly clasped in his own, and his eyes drifted to his girlfriend. Alex smiled back up at him, her arms winding around his waist. Despite the sensation of the girl held captive within his grasp, Riley couldn't help but acknowledge the tiny spark of premonition blooming within his mind. It was brief, and it was minute, but it was there, and Riley didn't like that feeling. Not in the slightest bit. Yeah, he didn't play the jealous boyfriend shtick well at all.

- - -

The quartet of collegiate students approached the familiar structure of Janlan's penthouse, chattering animatedly as they recollected about the events of the day. As they neared the recognizable brownstone, Rory stopped abruptly, causing Tristan to stumble into her back.

"Whoa, Rory, some kind of warning would be idyllic."

Frowning slightly, Rory turned to Tristan, gesturing at the superfluous car occupying the driveway. "Tristan, what is Paris' BMW doing here?"

Tristan frowned, shaking his head in ignorance. "I don't know."

Alex also shifted her head in the negative. "I don't remember her saying anything about coming here."

Four pairs of eyes then swung back to Riley, the only member of their party who had failed to provide his own input. His stare occupied elsewhere, he recoiled slightly with a start as he felt the gazes upon him. Sensing the accusatory looks, Riley held his hands up in presumed ignorance.

"Whoa, hey, don't look at me."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the skepticism appeared heavy in each gaze. Riley threw his hands in the air, grumbling his defeat as he followed the group up the stairs.

"Oh, okay, fine, don't believe me…"

As they entered the penthouse, Rory squealed in delight as the unmistakable frame of a certain Australian swam into her vision.

"Finnikins!"

Tristan watched with amusement as Rory launched herself into the arms of the lanky Australian in currently occupying the sitting area of Janlan's penthouse. Shifting her eyes to his companion, Rory enveloped her in an embrace.

"Paris!"

Paris Gellar cocked an eyebrow at the exuberant display. "Geeze, Gilmore, separation anxiety much?"

Tristan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, how did you two get in?"

Paris only sent him a pointed look. "You forget, Dugrey, I have been here before. I know where you keep the spare key."

Tristan grinned, shaking his head. "Well, it's great to have you here. I'm only glad Pop's pad has so many bedrooms, otherwise this'd be pretty interesting."

Finn shook his head. "Oh, we just needed to drop something off. We're not planning on staying."

Rory waved her hand. "Nonsense. Of course you are. The more the merrier. You have to join us tonight. Riley's planning a surprise."

Riley nodded his concurrence, sneaking a glance towards a significant other. "Yeah. Please. Stay."

Finn grinned, shooting a look in Paris' direction. "Well, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?"  
Rory's gaze shifted to his accompanying blonde. "Paris?"  
Paris looked up at Riley and his expectant gaze, Tristan and his amused one, and Rory with her eager one before shrugging. "Why not."

Riley clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Excellent. Uhm, so do you guys happen to have semi-formal evening wear? Our destination tonight warrants a bit of elegance and class."

Paris shook her head in the negative. "Uh, no. Sorry."

Riley waved a hand, "Easily amendable. We can take you out and get something." Glancing down at his attire, he hitched a head back towards his bedroom. "Hang on, I gotta change."

Rory frowned. "Change? Why?

Riley grinned. "Most likely, we're going to a trendy boutique to get a dress, and I won't be let in looking like this. Besides, I have to appease my adoring public, hence someone, anyone, recognizes me. Not that I anticipate such an instance."

Riley reappeared, his long legs encased in black slacks, a pair of black dress boots on his feet, and pulling a grey crew-neck sweater over his white button-up sans the Yankee shirt. Pushing the sleeves up to his forearms, the cuffs folded over the sweater, Riley smoothed out the shirttails poking out from underneath as he hitched a head in Paris' direction. "You ready?"

Paris nodded, and Riley turned his head towards Finn, "What about you, Aussie? You need anything?"

Finn shook his head, "Uh, I'll pass. I need to speak with Reporter Girl for a moment."

Riley cocked an eyebrow, "You have a suit?"

"No," Finn admitted. Searching his pockets, he came up empty, and he turned to Paris, "Do you have a pen and some paper?"

Paris only cocked an eyebrow, a "What are you, some kind of idiot? Of course I do" expression blatant on her face as she extracted said items from the depths of her bag. Grinning as her fingers lingered slightly on his, Finn scribbled on the paper for a moment before handing the sheet to Riley. "Here're my sizes…"

Riley surveyed the numbers on the slip of paper, "Any preferences?"

Finn shrugged, "Uh, Gucci fits my frame the best, but whatever's there. Green goes well with my complexion. Not a forest green but more along the lines of a light olive green. I'll pay you back for the suit and any other accessories you deem necessary." Finn added as the realization of money hit his psyche.

Riley nodded, saluting his comprehension. Turning to Paris, he hitched his head towards the door. "Let's go." Pausing for a moment, he returned attention back to the blonde.

"You have everything? Credit cards, wallet, anything important?" His penetrating silver eyes were heavy with connotation as he gazed down at Paris.

Responding with a curt inclination of her head, Paris adjusted the purse on her shoulder. "Yes, everything."

"Okay then." Snatching the keys from the coffee table, Riley opened the door, ushering Paris out. "We'll see you guys later."

Rory waved as Riley's back disappeared through the door. Finn shifted his gaze to the blonde hovering behind Rory, his eyes holding an earnest message.

Catching the look, Tristan wrapped an arm around his younger sister, leading her in the direction as the preceding couple. "C'mon, kiddo. You and I need some sibling bonding time."

As the door clicked softly shut, Finn rotated towards Rory and stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling what he hoped was a winning grin, "'Ello, love."

Rory simply cocked an eyebrow. Regarding the Aussie closely, she cast a long pointed look in his direction. "Finn."

"Yes?" Finn's exotic features took on what he hoped was an expression of pure innocence.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Finn shuffled guiltily, staring up at Rory with puppy-dog brown eyes. "I harbor an overwhelming urge to see your lovely countenance?"

Rory sent him a reproving glance. "Not when I just broke up with Logan and you're one of his closest friends."

Finn only grinned, "Hm…suspicion does not become you, love."

Rory shrugged in slight indifference. "So give me a reason not to be."

Finn chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Ah, alas, I find that I cannot..." Finn sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, "Look, Rory. You know Huntz is one of my best friends. I have a self-imposed obligation to at least try and make things right between the two of you."

Rory hugged her arms, lowering herself to the couch behind her. "Finn, I don't think it's that simple."

Finn settled down beside her, rubbing his neck tiredly. "I know it's not, kitten. But you two were together for longer than Logan's attention span can normally tolerate. Don't you think that's worth something?"

Rory nodded slowly, "Sure it was, Finn. But he never even thought to mention the fact that he got my best friend's sister pregnant. Isn't _that_ worth something?"

Finn ran his hands down the expensive material of his slacks, his eyes diverted down to his shoes, "Rory, I never agreed with the way Logan handled the Alex situation, I made that abundantly clear to him, but at least try to think of it this way: how was he supposed to tell you? I can't imagine that sort of conversation would make for splendid pillow talk."

Rory snorted softly, glancing down so that her curtain of brunette hair obscured her face. "Finn, that would imply that we held those kinds of deep conversations…" Rory bit her bottom lip, "I don't know, I just…Knowing the way I was born, and knowing what my mother could have done to salvage her own life…I just can't handle that."

Finn's doe brown eyes softened with sympathy. "And you don't think you two can work through it?"

Rory's shake of the head was prompt and decisive, done without a moment's hesitation. "No. Not when…"

"Not when Tristan Dugrey is so involved." Finn finished gently, comprehending her hesitation immediately.

Rory shrugged without qualm, "He's my best friend, Finn. He is the only one I trust implicitly and without any reservation at all. He's been there for me when I sure as hell didn't deserve it. It was my fault we haven't talked in a year, and I regret every day that passed that I couldn't pick up the phone and talk to him. I can't be with Logan, Finn…"

"Because Tristan Dugrey has managed to steal that part away from you." Finn nodded. "I understand, love."

Rory smiled sadly, surprised at his words, but choosing not to refute the claim, the sheen encompassing her brilliant eyes explanation enough. "I'm sorry, Finn. It wouldn't be fair to Logan, and I can't jeopardize my friendship with Tristan. It's always been him before any relationship. I may have doubted that before but I know it now."

Finn chuckled, lofting his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender. "Yeah, well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take a whack at it?"

Rory laughed. "He's lucky he has someone like you."

"So do you, love." Finn answered, grinning his disarming smile. "You have me. You have Paris, you have Beaumont, and most importantly, you have Dugrey. Both of them."

Rory's face melted into a soft smile. Leaning in, she pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek in gratitude. "Thanks, Finn." Shifting slightly, she paused, "So, uh, what are you going to do about Logan? I don't think he would be too fond of the idea of associating with me."

For the first time since he arrived in New York, Finn didn't have a ready explanation. "I don't know, love. I really don't. You're my friend. He's my friend. I don't want to lose either of you…"

Rory reached out, touching his hand. "This puts you in a really difficult position, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does." Finn shrugged, idly scratching the back of his neck. "I've know Logan since we were fifteen. I honestly think our fathers collaborated in our future paths because while Huntz is set up to become the next media mogul, I'm supposed to represent his interests as his lawyer." Finn huffed a humorless laugh. "Yale Law School, here I come."

Finn's eyes drifted back up to Rory, "But then I met you, I saw an innocence I haven't seen in a long time. I lost mine way too early to appreciate the little things."

At the slightly bewildered gaze shining in Rory's brilliant eyes, Finn huffed out a rueful chuckle. "You really don't understand the pull you have towards men, don't you? I mean, at one point in time, you had three blokes clamoring over themselves just to be with you. You have a gift, Gilmore. I'd hate to think of the consequences if you fully acknowledged it…" Finn couldn't help but grin as she ducked her head, the pink flush tingeing her cheeks, and he cocked his head.

"But that's the thing. You'd never take advantage of something like that." The grin softened into a smile. "Just seeing you brings out almost a hope that the world isn't as jaded as we make it to be."

Finn diverted his gaze to the heavens as though the higher powers could assist in his explanation. "I never really put a value on friendship. Especially not with women. You showed me that I could have a platonic relationship with a girl that I could love her deeply and dearly without the assumed stirring in the nether regions." Finn's deep brown gaze held all kinds of meaning. "In one way or another, you've changed every single person who has been under your spell."

Finn sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, "I cherish my friendship with Logan. He's one of my oldest mates. But your friendship has so much meaning that…I can't bring myself to simply cut you out of my life out of loyalty to Huntz. I just…I know that if I do that, I'm severing something so special. Something I may not experience again."

Finn lifted his head from where he had it bowed against his chest, taking a deep, laboring breath. "So…I'm going to stay out of this. Because you're my friend, too."

Rory shook her head bemusedly, "Declan Rochester Finnegan, III, your Australia is stupid to have let you go."

"I think the female population would agree with you, kitten." Finn rejoined in a matter-of-fact tone. "You American ladies are rejoicing, however."

Rory sat for a moment before a thought entered her brain, and she turned to her Aussie companion. "Finn?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here with Paris?"

Finn tensed for a moment before turning back to Rory, his winning smile once again adorning his face. "My affinity to blondes?"

Rory narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You've always had a proclivity to redheads."

Finn grinned wistfully, a faraway expression on his face. "Ah, yes, you would be correct." His eyebrows waggled up and down in a playfully suggestive manner. "Redheads rouse the groin, but I happen to know feisty blondes make me weak in the knees." A roguish wink lowered one eyelid as he stretched his arms above his head and continued his explanation.

"The lovely Miss Gellar was the singular soul who knew of your location besides my good mate Huntzberger, and since he is in no state of mind to tell me that location, I figured the good lass would be so kind as to assist me in establishing your whereabouts. I then coerced her into coming along."

Rory inclined her head in recognition of the feat. "Well done, Finnegan."

"It wasn't easy, that's for sure." Finn mused.

"Nothing ever is with Paris." Rory assured him.

Finn's head bobbed up and down in concurrence. "That girl is a stubborn one. I had to resort to a bit of trickery. Quite the challenge, truth be told, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

"Yes, you would," Rory interrupted wryly.

Finn smirked, propping one elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head on his fist. "_I_ think there's something more to Paris Gellar than the eye reveals…"

Before Rory could process the connotation behind Finn's words, she cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Wait, why couldn't you have asked Logan?"

Finn grinned sheepishly, "Ah…Huntz isn't as enamored with me as he normally is…"

"Declan…" Rory's tone held a bit of a warning as she pressed him for information.

Finn sighed, shrugging guiltily, "I presented him with a more…_pragmatic_ account of his transgressions."

Rory cocked an eyebrow, fighting to restrain the laughter bubbling up to the surface. "You gave Logan a reality check?"

"Yep." Finn tilted his head in thought, "His inaugural one, I think."

"Harsh, Finnegan."

Once again Finn shrugged. "Indeed, but well-needed. What he did to Alexandra was wrong; I'm not going to rebut that. He's just forced himself to believe the contrary."

Rory frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, genuinely curious. "But why did he do it?"

Finn scratched the back of his neck, a tired expression on his face as he began his elucidation. "Logan is put under a good amount of pressure, love. As the eldest male in the immediate Huntzberger line, he is set to inherit the entire Huntzberger Media Corporation once either Mitchum steps down or dies. He neither wants it, nor does he wish that burden to be placed on his shoulders, but he is Logan Huntzberger, therefore he will run Huntzberger Media Corporation. He sees no way out."

Finn looked down at his shoes. "Of course it doesn't help that he's constantly being compared to Tristan Dugrey every step that he goes."

At the mention of Tristan, Rory cocked her head in interest. "Really? What for?"

Finn leaned back against the cushions, making himself more comfortable. "Well, the Hartford social circles have always revolved around the Dugreys. They are perhaps the most prominent family in Connecticut, just short of the entire East Coast. Any gossip about this family is considered gold. When Tristan got sent away to military school, it caused quite the buzz, but when he returned in all of his reformed glory, it only elevated the Dugrey prestige to greater proportions."

Finn snorted with a toss of his head. "Ever since, Tristan Dugrey has set a standard for all Hartford men, and fathers are only too happy to compare their sons to him."

Rory frowned, "That sounds…"

"Horrible? Pretentious?" Finn supplied. Inclining his head, Finn shrugged in begrudging compliance. "Yes. But you look at his life. Everything about him commands respect. From screw up to savior, valedictorian of his high school class, Stanford scholar, and a best friend who goes to Yale and is a best-selling author." Another shrug lifted his shoulders. "That's hard to compete against."

"I know it's not excuse, Gilmore," Finn reasoned, "but it does put everything into perspective."

Rory nodded. "Yes, that's true. But I do know one thing. If he fought hard enough, he could escape that. It can be done." Rory's sapphire eyes hardened as her voice rose in a vehement protest. "No one deserves to have their dignity disregarded like it doesn't matter, Finn."

"I know, love." Finn soothed her, bracing his arms on her shoulders in an attempt to placate Rory Gilmore on the verge of a rampage. "You're right. I never agreed with Logan's actions. It just isn't honorable. He's not a man yet. Even with all his worldly experience, he's still a boy, and he's in serious denial."

Rory exhaled heavily through her nostrils. "And by the time he figures that out, it'll be too late."

"That it will be, kitten." Finn conceded. "But all we can do as his friends is keep pounding the rationale in his head and pray to God that he gets it."

"I'm not certain I'm ready to call him a friend just yet, Finnegan." Rory mused.

Finn chuckled, "Okay, that's all _I_ can do as a friend."

"Do you think he'll get it?" Rory queried, her brow furrowing in unwilling concern for her ex-boyfriend.

Finn shook his head in genuine remorse. "I don't know, love. I really don't. And that's what I'm afraid of…"

- - -

Riley took a step back as Paris Gellar breezed by him, already on her way to the next rack of clothing. Her steady gaze, normally reserved for her studies, scanned over her selections as she rushed headlong into the search for her dress. Riley glanced down at the bag holding Finn's suit in his hands before allowing his eyes to drift back up to his companion.

"Paris?"

"Hmm?" Her tone was slightly preoccupied as her head poked up from the mounds of dresses under her perusal.

"Do you know an Ian Michaels?"

"Ian Michaels?" Paris drew out the name as she mulled over the face.

Riley nodded, leaning casually against the wall behind him as Paris flitted from rack to rack, sifting through dresses. "Yeah, year younger, went to Chilton with you and Rory?"

"Oh, him." Riley could see the dawning of recognition as Paris looked up from her search. "Yeah, I think pretty much everyone knew Ian Michaels."

"Is that considered to be a good thing or a bad thing?"

Paris shrugged. "Both."

Riley cocked an eyebrow. "I trust you are going to elaborate?"

"Well, Ian was always known as the successor to Tristan's King of Chilton throne, but it was more self-imposed than anything. Of course, the ladies always thought he was an inferior version of the original thing, so needless to say, he didn't get as much play as he said he did. Why do you ask?" Paris turned, two dresses held up for him to see, "Blue or green?"

Riley wrinkled his nose at her choices. "Neither. Blue clashes with your skin tone, and I'm not feeling the green." He attempted to revert her attention back to his previous topic. "He's here."

"Here?" Paris repeated, blatantly distant as she continued her search. Glancing down, she appraised the green dress in her right hand. "Why not this green?"

"Because, that's a really nasty looking shade of it." Riley explained, his frustration mounting. Once again, he regressed back to his quandary. "Here. As in New York, and Alex seemed very enthused to see him."

His insistence seemed to elude Paris as she frowned down at the dark forest dress he had rejected. "Wait, _why_ not this green? What's wrong with this green?"

Riley huffed out an exasperated grunt. "Let me put it this way, that shade strongly reminds me of seaweed. So if you want fish to find you attractive, be my guest. I have no qualms against inter-species relationships. And can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

Paris rolled her eyes at his adamant sarcasm. "Fine, no green." As she put the dress back on the rack, comprehension dawned on her. "Wait a minute…" She turned suddenly, whipping towards her companion.

"Riley Beaumont, are you jealous?"

Riley recoiled, furtively denying her claim. "No! Of course not." He trailed off, trying to verbalize his concerns. "I'm…confused."

Paris' brow furrowed, holding up a dress for his inspection. "Confused? How?"

Riley shook his head, rebutting her selection. Raking a hand through his hair, he thought back to the first interaction with Ian Michaels. "When I first met Ian, he was making a play for Alex, and I threatened to dismember him. Excuse me for being a bit more than befuddled when he sweeps my girlfriend up into an exuberant hug upon re-acquaintance." Riley followed her as she made her way to the fitting room, an armful of dresses in her grasp. "What happened in that relationship?"

Paris shrugged. "Well, when was that first meeting?"

A wry smile curled a corner of Riley's mouth as he gestured between them, "When we met for the first time."

"Oh." Paris diverted her gaze. Pausing, she assessed the timeline, "So then our senior year, their junior year?"

Riley nodded. "Right."

"Well, everything began their senior year, our freshman year of college…"

Riley snorted, running a hand over his hair, "Of course it did."

Paris cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Riley's smirk had an ironic light to its appearance. "_Everything_ began that year."

Paris barked out a mirthless laugh. "True. I guess this one doesn't break that curve…" Shaking her head, she backed into the fitting room, nodding her thanks to the saleslady who ushered her in. "You're right. The Ian you came into contact with was pretty much the Ian we all knew. Not many people were too fond of him. He was an ass, and he was a modern day Lothario. Alex certainly despised him."

As she disappeared behind a curtain, Riley prolonged their conversation, lowering himself down to a chair in the plush waiting room. "So what happened?"

"Well, what else makes someone change?" The rhetorical question floated out from the barrier between them. "He was really close to his grandmother and practically doted on her. One day, he found out she had contracted breast cancer and was told she only had a few months to live."

Riley was silent with rapt attention as Paris continued, her words stifled against the rustling of fabric. "Ian was really shaken up; he was withdrawn and didn't talk to anyone. Alex finally approached him, and he told her everything. She could sympathize because Janlan's wife, Eleanor, was diagnosed with breast cancer as well, and she died when Alex and Tristan were twelve and thirteen respectively."

A muffled grunt of dissatisfaction indicated the rebuff of another dress. "Luckily, Isabelle Michaels survived, but it was a long and painful process with lots of uncertainty and ambiguity. Ian was so shaken; he completely revamped his entire personality."

Riley's curiosity piqued. "Why?"

"Maybe he realized that life was too short." Came his reply. "Maybe he actually learned to cherish those close to you. Who knows?" There was a pause before Paris resumed their discussion. "After that, he and Alex became really close."

The sharp grinding sound of metal on metal permeated the air as Paris drew the curtain back, reemerging from the fitting room. "How about this?"

Riley stood as she entered, raising his eyes from their position fixated on the ground in deep contemplation. As his gaze settled on Paris, he drew in a sharp intake of breath. The thin, light cream evening gown fell delicately down her frame, accentuating the curves of her body and highlighting the dark amber of her eyes, the delicate embroidery softening the overall appearance. Her straight blonde fell down in waves across her shoulders as she fidgeted anxiously against his scrutinizing gaze. Riley cleared his throat as he struggled to find his voice.

"Y-you look beautiful."

Paris shuffled slightly, her dark eyes betraying her insecurity at his perpetually intense gaze, "You don't think the brown is a bit plain?"

Mutely, Riley shook his head. "No…i-it looks great. You look great."

Paris flushed as his penetrating silver gaze spanned up and down her body. "Well, I guess this is the dress then…"

Bemusedly, Riley allowed his head to bob up and down, "Yeah…that's the dress…" As she disappeared behind the curtain of the dressing room, Riley let out a deep, shuddering breath anxiously running a hand through his hair.

"Your girlfriend has excellent taste."

Startled by the new voice at his elbow, Riley shifted to meet the eyes of the saleslady smiling up at him. His mouth tightening in a small smile he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend." Riley corrected the lady. As the words resonated in his mind, Riley's expression took on a pensive light. "She's just a friend."

As Paris reappeared, he straightened, taking the garments in her arms and shooting a smile to the helpful saleslady. Making his way to the cashier, Riley leaned against the counter.

"So…should I feel threatened?"

"I don't see why." Paris answered, digging in her purse for her credit card. "You and Alex should be secure enough in your relationship. Don't you trust her?"

"Of course I do." Riley insisted fervently, whirling to face his female counterpart. "I just can't believe I didn't know about this. You know, that she didn't tell me."

"You're not going to be a staple in every single facet of her life, Riley." Paris remarked wryly, signing the receipt before her with a deft hand, "There _are_ going to be some things that you won't necessarily be privy to."

Riley diverted his gaze downward as he scuffed one shoe against the floor beneath his feet, sighing in defeat. "I know." Raising his pewter gaze to Paris', Riley allowed a gust of air to escape from his lips. Paris was surprised to see the vulnerability in his stunning eyes. She was so used to a confident, assured Riley that this sudden bout of insecurity was a bit jarring for her. Riley jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. "It's just…I can't shake this sense of…foreboding." He shook his head, the frustration evident in his gaze.

"I've never…you know…had to defend what's mine."

"Wow, Beaumont." Paris commented dryly. "Way to be a modern-thinking, enlightened man."

Riley sighed, opening the door for her to pass through, one hand reaching out to relieve her of her purchase. Paris took a moment to marvel at the man beside her. Modern-thinking, enlightened man or not, Riley Beaumont was always chivalrous to a fault. Scratching the back of his neck, he amended his previous statement.

"What I meant was that I never felt threatened for a girl's affections. The last time was…" Riley stopped abruptly, instantly seizing Paris' attention.

"Was what?"

"Was when you started dating that Jamie guy." Riley mumbled, his eyes plummeting to the ground. Sensing her incisive gaze, Riley plunged ahead. "I thought…I thought you'd moved on and forgotten about me, and it hurt. I mean there I was wallowing and you were having a grand ole time with another guy." He shrugged, "We were over before we started." Riley huffed out a snort. "Once I heard about him, I knew I had no chance."

"I mean, he was a Princeton scholar, probably the valedictorian of his high school, who most likely never gotten into trouble in his life, spare a few parking tickets, and I was just a delinquent screw-up boot camp kid." Riley scoffed. "I mean, I knew you were way too amazing for me, and I definitely didn't deserve someone like you. I couldn't compete with the likes of a Princeton man."

"Yeah, you could have."

At Paris' confession, Riley's brow furrowed as he shifted his eyes to hers. "What?"

"Riley, you more than deserved me, and to say I deserved you would just be complete fallacy. You're a great man, and I'm more screwed up than I'm willing to admit. I mean, you know the problems I have in general, let's not even start with social interaction. I was with Jamie because he was…convenient. He was there; you weren't." Paris turned away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

"If you would have walked up to me in the middle of a date with Jamie, sadly enough, I would have dropped everything to be with you."

"But you slept with him." Riley couldn't help but point out, almost choking on the notion.

Paris heaved a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I did. Obviously that wasn't the most intelligent of my ideas. Allow me to point out a complete psychological meltdown on live television because I had sex with Jamie."

"Yeah. TJ and I saw that…" Riley paused, fiddling with the handles of the bag in his hands, "But why'd you do it?"

Paris simply cocked an eyebrow. "Please, Riley, haven't you heard that you don't have to be in love to have sex with some one?"

"So that's all it was?" Riley's gaze stayed determinedly down towards the sidewalk, "Sex?"

"No." Paris admitted, running one hand haphazardly through her hair, "Jamie was…"

"Was…?" Riley prompted, eager to hear her answer.

"He was someone I could use to try and forget you. 'Try' being the operative word." Paris confessed, scoffing to herself. "A few stolen moments of presumed passion, the obligatory dates and kisses. He wanted me. Honestly and truly wanted me. It was nice to feel that again."

"So why didn't you tell me about him?" Riley growled, the anger, the hurt, the resentment he had stifled all those years ago suddenly resurfacing in a surge of emotion. "Why did I have to be the last one to hear it? Why have TJ break the news to me?"

Paris' shoulders slumped down with the brunt of the emotional baggage raining down on her. "Telling you would have made me reconsider everything. I would have heard your voice, drowned myself in the nostalgia of our few moments, and gone back to Jamie with my heart not completely in that relationship. It wasn't fair to him."

Paris rubbed her temples absently, her voice lowered to a plea. "I'm not like you, Riley. I can't just keep going with my feelings blatantly out there like you can. I don't feel as violently as you do. I keep everything tucked down. That's the way I am. You know that."

"So why did you come if you knew I was here?" Riley couldn't impede the question.

"We need closure Riley." Paris explained, wrapping her arms around herself. "The end of us was so ambiguous. We need to actually talk about us, get it out in the open. We need this to be finished."

"I thought we finished this a long time ago, Paris." Riley muttered, having a difficult time keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

Paris snorted softly in rebuttal. "No, Riley, we didn't. You and I danced around each other for four years, dutifully avoiding the subject as well as any contact between us. This 'us' has always been left unresolved. Logically speaking, we have had to begin something in order to end it, but that's a minor detail."

"Okay, Paris, I get it. You and I never got together, so we can't break up." Riley's deep voice rumbled dangerously through his throat. "What's your point?"

"My point is, I can't move on from you officially until you and I agree the status of us." Paris stopped suddenly, whirling to face him, her amber eyes shining with a purpose. "Are you happy with Alexandra, Riley?"

Riley didn't hesitate in his response, his voice heavy with his conviction. "Yeah. I love her."

Paris sighed. She paused, the weight of the silence heavy in the ambiance between the two collegiates. Finally, she allowed her eyes to drift up to Riley's. "Then that's all I need to know. Consider it closed."

Riley waited, his head cocked in anticipation for a reaction that didn't seem to come. As Paris didn't continue, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That's it? Just emotional shutdown, just like that? After that whole spiel and four years and that's all you needed to know? That I love my girlfriend?" Frustrated and exasperated, Riley exhaled heavily through his nostrils. "No offense, Paris, but couldn't you have done this over the phone?"

"You're happy, Riley." Paris' response came without pomp and circumstance.

Riley waved her claim off with a dismissive hand. "Easy assessment, Gellar. But why travel all the way here for that?"

"I blame Declan Finnegan." Paris muttered as she began her stroll down the street.

"Finn?" Riley let out an incredulous laugh. "Why?"

"He made me."

Riley chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Paris, no one has the ability to force you to do something. Even if he were to dangle you upside down from the Empire State Building, you wouldn't do anything you didn't want to."

Paris ignored his gentle teasing. "Okay, fine. Well, first of all, he made me see that this…whatever between us needs to be resolved if either of us wants to truly be happy, and secondly – and I have no idea how he did it – but the next thing I knew I was agreeing to accompanying him."

Riley smirked. "Easy, I bet he dared you."

"Why do you say that?" Paris didn't know whether or not to be offended.

Riley's smirk only deepened in indulgent enjoyment. "Simple. Paris Gellar can't stand being proven wrong…" Riley sobered quickly. "But wait, you never answered my first question. After everything, you're just able to say you don't feel anything towards me at all?"

Paris glanced away. "I _could_ say that, but that would be a lie. I see how you are with Alexandra, Riley. I'm not going to jeopardize that in any way. I just wanted to tell you that, if you are, I'm ready to be friends. We never talked about our…break up, and I thought that it's time that we did."

"So we're friends?" Riley ventured skeptically.

Paris bit her lip before nodding resolutely. "Yes."

"Okay."

At Riley's blithe reply, Paris' brow creased, her voice betraying her suspicion. "Okay?

Riley let out a deep breath. "Paris, you and I had a volatile relationship. We were all fireworks and dynamite, passion, lust, and spontaneity all rolled into one. I never meant to find anyone that week TJ and I came back, but I did. And I'm never gonna regret that." Riley ran a hand through his hair. "We never began anything, we never ended anything. It was like a week and I was gone. I told you not to wait for me, and that turned out to be a move I regretted. The timing was always off. You were taken, I was taken…And yeah, it hurt when I realized you were with someone else."

Riley shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes diverting to the ground. "The thing is…maybe the fates are trying to tell us something. You know, about us." He hesitated, unsure of the impact of his words. "Maybe we're just not right for each other. Maybe not now, maybe later. Maybe. But I just…think we're better off with just that week together and friends now." Riley raised his eyes to hers, shining with genuine sincerity.

"You're gonna find someone, Paris. Someone amazing, and he's gonna sneak up on you, scare the wits out of you, and you're gonna be in the middle of something when you realize that you love him. He's gonna be the real deal, and you're gonna feel ten times of whatever you felt with me. You're gonna make someone really happy. And he's gonna treat you right." Riley's shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "I just don't think that it's me…"

Paris sighed before nodding her resignation. "I'm not going to lie to you, Riley. You're not an easy guy to let go."

"That's what I hear." Riley chuckled at his feeble attempt to lighten the situation. Reaching out, he grasped his hand in hers. "I'm always gonna be here for you, Paris. Just not that way."

Paris allowed herself a tight smile of rueful acquiescence. "I know. I just need time. I can't just jump into a friendship when I've felt so strongly for you, Riley."

"I get it." Riley assured her, giving her hand a small squeeze. "Take all the time you need. We'll take it slow."

Paris' head bobbed up and down in a lethargic nod. "Slow is good."

But as Riley continued down the sidewalk with Paris by his side, he couldn't help but wonder, was that really how he felt? Could he really forget Paris Gellar as easily as that? The truth was, he thought the same things she did. He had always wondered where their relationship could have gone if he had asked her to wait. But as soon as that notion snuck into his mind, Riley berated himself, banishing it back into the dark recesses of obscurity. He loved Alex, and if Paris could be mature about this whole thing, if she could handle herself around him without posing a threat to their relationship, than so could he.

- - -

Tristan strolled down the sunlit path, his hands stuck in his pockets as Alex ambled along side of him, her hand nestled in the crook of his arm. Turning his head, Tristan surveyed his younger sister. Her light blue eyes sparkled with life, the corners of her mouth easily relaxing into an effortless smile. She had an almost tranquil calm about her, her shoulders devoid of the burden present a year prior, and Tristan knew that the source of this new tranquility was none other than his best friend, Riley Beaumont. His actions upon finding out about their relationship may not have mirrored his opinion on the situation, but Tristan was truly happy for Alex. His sister deserved happiness, and far be it for him to stand in the way of that.

"So how have you been?"

Alex smiled indulgently, her eyes softening dreamily. "Great. I've really been great."

Tristan scratched the fine hair at the base of his neck. "Beau treating you well?"

Alex rolled her eyes, scrutinizing her brother with an amused eye. "Tristan, you know how Riley is. Do you really think you need to ask me that question?"

"Ah, c'mon. I haven't been able to do this since you dated Mason Andrews your freshman year." Tristan chided his younger sister, nudging her gently. "Humor me."

Alex only wrinkled her nose. "Oh, whatever…Yes, Riley treats me well."

"Have you –" Tristan fidgeted nervously, unsure of how to proceed, but the unvoiced inquiry did not go unnoticed by his younger sibling.

"Tristan!"

Tristan's expression took on an innocent quality. "What? It's a legitimate question."

"Yes, but not one I would like to discuss with my brother!" Alex spluttered with exasperation, her eyes widening in horror.

Tristan's stare didn't leave his younger sister. "Well…have you?"

Alex could hardly believe her ears, burying her face in her hands. "No! But that's not the point!"

"Do you want to?" Tristan persisted, ignoring his sister's obvious discomfort.

"Okay, do you understand what awkward means?" Alex practically shrieked, her voice rising with anxiety. "Because _this_ is really awkward."

Tristan's mouth tightened, recognition striking him as well as he broke eye contact. "Oh…"

He paused before returning his eyes to Alex. "You still didn't answer my question."

A heavy sigh hefted through the younger Dugrey. "Will you drop it if I do?"

Tristan smirked. "Yes."

Alex shook her head. "Okay. Fine." Hesitating for a moment, she gathered her courage, admitting sheepishly, "No, but Lord knows I want to."

Tristan thought for a moment. "Can I ask why?"

"Don't ask unless you honestly want to hear the answer…" Alexandra warned her brother, her eyes narrowing slightly.

This time, it was Tristan's turn to roll his eyes. "I can handle it, Alex."

"I think Riley wants me to make the first move." Alex admitted, glancing away from her elder sibling, a contemplative glint to her features. "I don't think he knows what he can and can't do so he's waiting for me to instigate."

"But if he's the one who makes the first move…" Tristan pressed, his eyes not leaving Alex's profile.

Alex shrugged. "Chances are, I wouldn't have it in me to resist him, but you know how Riley is. He would rather shoot himself in the foot than push me into something I wasn't comfortable with or ready for."

"Yeah. That is the Beau we all know and love." Tristan chuckled. Glancing down, he shoved his hands even deeper into the depths of his pockets. "I just…I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you two are dating."

Alex lofted an eyebrow. "You still have a problem with it?"

Tristan smiled, throwing an arm around the shoulders of his younger sister. "Munchkin, I never had a problem with it. Truth is, I'm never gonna believe anyone you date will be good enough for you, but you're right. I _do_ know my best friend. And I know that although no one will ever be worthy of you, he's as close as I'm gonna get." Tristan sobered, his face glinting with nostalgia from long ago.

"You know I'm always gonna remember you as this little squirt who pranced around in a leotard and tutu, beating people on the head with a plastic wand and granting their wishes." Tristan sighed. "You're my kid sister. This whole you growing up thing completely passed me by."

Alex returned his smile, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, a gesture she hadn't done since they were young children. Tristan returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I don't care what anyone else says. You were always my girl first. Hell, I'm the one who helped changed your poopy diapers."

The siblings shared a laugh as they settled down on a bench near the edge of a park. Alex rested one arm on the back of the bench, gazing at her elder brother imploringly. "So…how are things going with you and Rory?"

Tristan plopped down next to her, propping one ankle on his knee. "They're…going."

"Meaning?"

"I may have…spilled my guts to her earlier." Tristan confessed, running a hand through his hair.

"Should I be surprised?" Alex teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. "You have quite the penchant for completely losing all dignity in the presence of Rory Gilmore. It's been there since you two first met, why think it's gonna change now?"

"Shove it, Munchkin." Tristan growled, a glower skating over his visage.

"Great comeback, big bro." Alex shot back, "I don't know which one's better, that or your mom…"

As her brother pouted, Alex giggled to herself at the ridiculous sight. "So when are you gonna make your move?"

"Not yet. The wound's still fresh with Logan." Tristan ran his hands down his jean-clad legs, his breath leaving his mouth in a short gust. "I'm not that guy anymore. When I see she's ready, I'll make my move."

Alex smiled, laying her head against her brother's shoulder. "Don't wait too long, Tristan. You don't want to let this slip away."

Tristan sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and ghosting a kiss against her golden locks. "I know, Alex. Lord, do I know." He gazed down at the blonde head beneath him. "How'd you get so smart about this stuff?"

Alex smirked, her eyes sparkling impishly. "I watched all _your_ relationships crash and burn…" Her shoulders shook with laughter as she could sense the glower on her brother's face.

"Munchkin…"

- - -

Riley ambled down the street, his head swiveling from side to side, obviously in search of something. His piercing eyes took in the ambiance of their surroundings before zeroing in on an ornate building, the company logo tastefully displayed for all the world to see. Turning to his companion, Riley gestured earnestly as he led her into the foyer.

"Okay, you have those transcripts?"

Paris nodded, extracting them from the depths of her purse, hurrying to keep up with Riley. "Yeah, here. What exactly do you need them for?"

Riley smirked as he navigated his way to the elevators, evident that he knew exactly where he was going. Ushering her into the lift, Riley jabbed a button with a stab of his finger before answering her question. "I am going to kill two birds with one stone: I'm going to stick it to Mitchum Huntzberger and send out dear friend Rory back on the path of ambition and dignity."

As the elevator shuddered to a halt, Paris turned to her counterpart, confusion prominent on her face. "Riley, where exactly are we?"

A jaunty grin on his handsome face, Riley exited the shaft, throwing a smirk in his direction. "_The New York Times_ headquarters."

Paris cocked an eyebrow, her head shifting to take in the lavish surroundings. "_The New York Times_? Wow, you really don't hold back, do you."

"What better newspaper than the one Mitchum can't seem to compete with?" Riley countered, unable to keep the glee from his face.

Paris inclined her head in acquiescence. "True…so how did you manage this?"

Riley only smirked his satisfaction, continuing down the hallway, waving at the various people he passed. It was obvious the young author was well-known around the office as well as welcome among the employees. "Well, the editor and I have forged a friendship over our antagonism with Mitchum Huntzberger. Once he saw the review Mitchum's newspapers gave me, he read the book himself and decided he really wanted to meet me. We've been friends ever since. Trust me, he seriously owes me." Riley chuckled with his boyish excitement. "Rory won't know what hit her."

Paris' brow furrowed in slight befuddlement. "So he's just going to give her the job?"

Riley waved a dismissive hand. "No. Of course not." Riley brandished the folder of Rory's academic and professional résumé. "I have pull with him, but not that much pull. That's what the transcripts are for. I'm going to let Rory's writing speak for itself."

Reaching a desk, Riley leaned over the counter, the dashing smile that served as the cause to many a woman to swoon, affixed to his face. The young secretary behind the desk noticed him immediately, one hand subtly running through her hair.

"Mr. Beaumont, what a surprise!"

Riley grinned charmingly, his pose flirtatious as he propped his chin on an upraised fist. "Joanne, how nice to see you."

"How is your latest going, Mr. Beaumont?"

"Joanne, you know it's Riley, and it's going well, thank you." Paris couldn't impede the eye roll as the obviously smitten secretary continued to flirt and simper with her tall companion.

Riley tilted his head, regarding Joanne with an adorable puppy-dog look. "So, is Tom in his office?"

Joanne leaned forward, bringing her face close to Riley's, "As a matter of fact he is. But I think he's in a meeting. Would you like me to tell him you're here?"

Riley grinned. "That would be great, thanks."

As the secretary slid from her desk, disappearing down a hallway, Paris cocked an eyebrow at her writer companion. "Wow, that was interesting, Beaumont."

Riley chuckled. "Don't think too much of it, Paris. Joanne is engaged and extremely happy with her sports agent fiancé. Nice guy, too. There's nothing wrong with harmless flirting, and it's just our little thing." Riley leaned in, nudging his blonde friend. "You gonna tell on me?"

Paris rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. But I probably will hold this over you for a good while."

"I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Gellar." Riley rejoined. The two shared a moment of comfortable silence before a third voice intruded on their moment.

"Riley."

The deep voice sparked a sensation of familiarity as Riley's shoulders tensed. Gathering his resolve, Riley turned, a carefully-controlled expression across his handsome features.

"Dad."

Christian Beaumont grinned, his arms spread wide in greeting. Just like their last interaction two years prior at Riley's graduation, Riley made no move to step into his father's embrace, only choosing to survey the older man with a suspicious eye. Christian lowered his arms, gesticulating vaguely to their surroundings. "What are you doing here, son?"

"Just taking care of some things." Riley responded tightly, reining his temper in for the sake of the surrounding public. With forced civility, Riley shoved his hands in his pockets, courteously maintaining conversation with his father. "Business, you know. I'm sure you can understand the concept for that."

Christian cocked a shrewd eyebrow, appraising his son with barely concealed arrogance. "Well, Riley, you know if you need a job, I've got a spot open at the agency. More money I'm sure than you have."

Riley met his father's stare directly, restraining the urge to deck the man given the title of his father. "Sorry, but I'm actually very well-off and extremely financially stable. Writing a national best-seller will do that." Riley waved a hand back to the hallway where Joanne disappeared through. "This is more along the lines of pleasure. Tom McFarlane and I are good friends."

"As in the editor-in-chief Tom McFarlane?" Christian's face lit up with interest.

"I wasn't aware there was another to get confused with." Riley replied, his voice impassive in its emotion.

"I've been trying to meet with him for months." Christian remarked, his stare calculating behind emerald orbs. "You know, try to launch a business arrangement with The Times."

"Okay, and…?" Riley waited for his father to continue, knowing precisely the direction of their conversation.

Christian assuaged his suspicions with his next statement. "I was hoping you might want to drop a name."

This time, Riley didn't bother containing his snort. "Are you kidding? What could possibly posses me to do something like that?"

"Family loyalty?" Christian offered. "You know, I saw you on those talk shows, _Live! With Regis and Kelly_ and _Good Morning, America_."

Riley shrugged glibly. "Yeah. Promotional things, you know. Apparently, when you're a fairly attractive best-selling author, the public takes interest."

"You didn't mention me once." Christian admonished his son, his tone accusatory.

Riley stared back, completely unaffected. "Yeah. Good catch. Your point?"

"I am still your father, Riley." Christian growled, incensed at the lack of fear he had instilled in his son.

"I prefer convenient sperm donor." Riley countered, his gray eyes hardened to steel slits. "The only fatherly sentiments you conveyed were constant reminders what a worthless waste of a human body I was. Sorry if I didn't take too lightly to those instances of nostalgia."

"Now son, what I did was for your own good." Christian insisted, oblivious to the rest of the world as they looked onto the heated exchange with open curiosity aware of the stifling tension between father and son. "The least you could do was mention me once. The agency certainly could have used the publicity."

Riley scoffed, his piercing stare unyielding as he gazed down to his father. "Funny to see how your opinions change when you find out all that writing I did, the writing that you said was a waste of time, turns out to propel me into the national spotlight. You think after how you've treated me all these years that I would even attempt to lift a finger to assist you in any way?" Riley cocked an eyebrow. "Are you honestly that dense?"

Christian grunted in impatient exasperation. "Riley, you know that I'm proud of what –" He began, surreptitiously casting glancing to the surrounding crowd.

Riley let out an incredulous huff. "Proud? You're _proud_ of me?" Responding with a toss of his head, Riley exhaled heavily through his nostrils, unsure of whether to be completely astounded at the nerve of his father or utterly amused.

"C'mon, _Dad_. Let's be honest. You and I both know you weren't proud of me when I began writing, why now? Is it because I'm famous? Please. You're just looking for some free publicity."

"Riley Daniel –"

Riley cut his father off with an incisive stare. "You don't get it do you? I don't care what you have to say. I don't care what you think about me, about my life, or about my career. I stopped a long time ago. I call you my father out of simple convenience. Why don't I mention you in interviews or articles? Because I honestly don't think about you. You never cross my mind. As far as I'm concerned, you never existed."

Father and son glared at one another, gray on green. Two pairs of eyes burned a scorching path to the opposite set, the tension heavy between the two men, neither willing to yield to the other's stare. The exchange spoke volumes to the surrounding constituents about the relationship between the elder and younger Beaumont. Finally, Christian yielded to his son's incredibly steady gaze, glancing away as he took a step back. Riley's mouth only tightened in response as Joanne's inquisitive voice crashed through his trance.

"Mr. Beaumont?"

His posture relaxing, Riley's gaze shifted to the young secretary as his father did the same, their voices united in each response. "Yes?"

Bewildered by the dual reply and slightly unnerved by the powerful intensity sparking behind the normally affable silver stare, Joanne stuttered for a moment before finding her voice, turning to Riley. "Uh, Mr. McFarlane is ready for you in his office."

Riley inclined his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Joanne." Turning to Paris, Riley hitched his head in the direction of the adjacent hallway. "You coming?"

Paris shuffled anxiously, tearing her gaze from the elder Christian Beaumont as he kept his eyes on his son. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

Riley brushed off her claim with a casual wave. "Nonsense, Tom's cool. C'mon."

Without another backwards glance at the man who called himself his father, Riley led Paris down the hall, a slight weariness to his tall stature. Paris glanced at the contemplative look to his eyes, unsure of whether or not she should proceed with her question.

"So…that was your dad?"

Riley tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes, sighing heavily. "Genetic contributor is more accurate. I attribute the finer qualities of my character to my mother. I was lucky I was gifted with so many of them and a sparse amount of my father's. Humility is one. Empathy is another. My father seriously lacks either."

Paris studied her companion. Riley's naturally proud carriage had looked as though an unseen burden had been dropped across his shoulders, and his gray eyes had clouded over flashing with a myriad of emotions. Seeing Riley's father and the disposition he held towards his son as well as the personality she had heard Riley refer to countless times with unbridled disgust, Paris couldn't help but wonder how the kind, compassionate, and selfless man beside her could have possibly come from the egotistic, arrogant parasite that was Christian Beaumont.

Paris tried to alleviate the anxiety from her companion. "Quite the character."

"Sure, if you enjoy tap-dancing on top of a stage of needles." Riley's blithe response held no humor despite the quick words.

Paris laid a hand on his arm, hesitant in venturing forward with her question. "Are you okay?"

"Go through five solid hours of someone beating your head with a blunt object and then get back to me." Riley retorted, his fingers raking through his hair. "Trust me, I've dispensed with all romantic notions of my father a long time ago." Catching Paris' genuinely concerned stare, Riley sighed, turning serious.

"I'll be okay. It's always psychologically trying interacting with my father. You see, he always had a certain conjecture about me. I was my mother's son, so it was inevitable I was destined to screw up. My life was, without a doubt, going to be an imminent failure. There was no way his offspring with the rather disappointing Hannah Taylor would one day make something of himself. Countless times, he tried to dissuade my dreams of becoming a writer, you know, in order to try and salvage the Beaumont name I was no doubt about to devastate. Christian Beaumont basically presumed nothing I did was going to be good enough for the Beaumont name. Imagine his chagrin when he found out that the very career he so adamantly protested against got me famous." Riley snorted, his expression adopting a faux look of deep remorse, "He was devastated at all the free publicity he lost."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Riley scoffed, the wistful smile not quite meeting his eyes. "I relish the fact that my most majestic bout of utter rebellion and insolence has ultimately resulted in, what is soon to be, a prolific career. Without his blatant disrespect, I would have never been so fueled in proving him wrong. That's what he can't stand the most, you know," Riley suddenly smirked, the gesture mirthless in its appearance, only acquiescent to reality, "the fact that I proved him wrong."

Paris had no idea how to respond to the sudden despondence in Riley's eyes. And in studying the young writer even as he glanced away, Paris saw the truth. Sure, Riley disregarded his father's dismissal of his lifestyle, seemingly unaffected at the lack of support received, but in truth, Riley Beaumont was like every other child. He just wanted his father's acceptance. Beneath the anger, the resentment, and all of the hurt, Riley Beaumont just wanted his father to be genuinely proud.

As the pair neared the large office of The New York Times' editor-in-chief, Paris witnessed Riley's posture straighten, the penitence faded from his pewter spheres to be replaced by his perpetual glimmer of verve, and his mouth split into an excited grin as he flung open the doors.

"Riley!" Immediately, the man situated at the sprawling desk, papers littering the surface, bolted from his seat, arms opened wide. In stark contrast to his actions with his father, Riley willingly stepped into the embrace, wrapping the elder man in a bear hug.

Riley eagerly returned the salutation, his silver eyes alight with the vivacity that was noticeably absent in his interactions with the elder Christian Beaumont. "Tom! Thanks for meeting with me."

Tom McFarlane cut Riley off with a hand to the shoulder. "Ah, it's no problem, kid. You know I would never mind." There was a noticeable warmth to the exchange between the two men and a familiarity to their interactions. This was the Riley Paris was so familiar with, vibrant and boisterous. Tom grinned a wide smile, hitching his head towards the third party currently occupying the office.

"So you gonna forget your manners, Beaumont, or are you gonna introduce me to your lovely companion?"

Riley jerked, gesturing to the blonde hovering near the door. "Oh, right! Tom, this is a very good friend of mine who attends Yale with me, Paris Gellar. She is actually going to be the next editor-in-chief of the _Yale Daily News_ come this fall," Riley boasted as he ushered Paris forward. Slapping one hand on the elder man's shoulder, Riley finished the introductions. "Paris, Tom McFarlane."

Slightly bedazzled with the prominent figure before her, Paris stuck out her hand, grasping the offering and shaking vigorously. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. McFarlane. It really is an honor."

Chuckling slightly at her enthusiasm, Tom shot her a warm smile. "Please, it's Tom." Leaning in closer, Tom waggled his eyebrows as he cast a conspiratorial glance her way. "I always knew Beaumont had a wonderful taste in woman."

Riley rolled his eyes at the antics of his elder friend. "Oh, stuff it, Tom. You're married."

Tom gave a mock sigh of regret as he released Paris' hand. "Yes, very true." At the mention of his wife, Tom snapped his fingers in recognition as he gestured for the pair to sit in the chairs across from his desk, "By the way, Heidi was wondering when you would be joining us for dinner."

Smiling, Riley lowered himself into the cushioned. "I'll check my schedule and get back to you on that."

Tom clapped his hands, getting right down to business. "Alrighty then, what was this urgent business that you absolutely had to meet with me about?"

Riley leaned back, propping an ankle up on his knee. "Well, you know how you said you were down a roving staff reporter now that Rachel Numberg transferred to The Globe?"

Tom cocked an eyebrow, nodding slowly. "Yes…"

Riley took the manila folder from Paris, extending Rory's résumé out to Tom. "Well, I've got a more than qualified candidate here, and if you'll hire her, I'm giving you the most promising piece of talent in Connecticut to replace Rachel Numberg."

Tom merely smirked, fingering the proffered sheet of paper. "Hmmm, that good, huh?"

Riley nodded, leaning forward in his chair. "Mitchum Huntzberger hired her as an intern this school year. Youngest intern there. Glowing recommendations from the staff, hard worker, exemplary employee."

Tom slipped a pair of spectacles atop his nose. "Rory Gilmore, eh? And what happened to her?"

Riley's features darkened as his grip tightened on the arms of his chair. "The usual. Huntzberger beat her down. Told her she would be better off doing secretarial work. Said she didn't have it."

Tom glanced up, looking at his young friend over the top of his glasses. "And does she?"

"She's wanted this since she was young, Tom. She more than has it." Riley insisted, gesturing ardently in an effort to persuade his elder friend. "She's got real talent, better yet, she's got the raw passion you're constantly preaching to me about. But you know Huntzberger. His machismo refuses to acknowledge that talent. If she was a man that would be a completely different story."

Tom chuckled, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. "No pun intended, right?"

"Tom, if she was a man, Huntzberger would be clamoring over every other newspaper in the country to bag her." Riley lightly thumped the top of Tom's desk in emphasis.

Tom sighed, a contemplative expression on his face. "Are you sure about this girl, Riley? Are you sure she has it?"

"I would bet my life on it." Riley answered confidently and without hesitation.

Suddenly, Tom turned to Paris, his steady brown eyes regarding the young woman closely. "And you, Ms. Gellar? Do you think young Ms. Gilmore has what it takes to survive in the journalism world?"

Paris started, surprised that she was being addressed. Composing herself, Paris knitted her hands together, straightening in her chair. "Yes, Mr. McFarlane, as a matter of fact, I do. I have worked directly with Rory Gilmore since we were sophomores in high school, both as her colleague as well as her editor. I have to admit that I have a certain…envy of her talent as well as her humor that she seems to always bring into every piece. It is a skill I have yet to master. I have no doubt Rory Gilmore was meant for the journalism world. I believe that she has the ability to excel in whatever she wishes to, but it seems that she has her heart set on journalism."

Tom smiled at the response, gesticulating with a wave, willing his counterpart to proceed. "Well, let's see her work."

Wordlessly, Riley handed over the rest of the folder. Tom leaned back in his chair as he extracted one article from the bevy before his eyes. One hand bracing his chin, the editor-in-chief scrutinized the expose with a practiced eye, meticulously scanning the words carefully. His face remained impassive, only breaking every once in while to huff a short chuckle. Riley and Paris waited with bated breath as he returned the article back to the folder, flipping through the others. Tossing the stack on his desk, Tom removed his spectacles, sitting up straighter to face the pair.

"Well, if the rest of her work is as entertaining as this piece, I think this decision would be rather simple for me. I do have other potential candidates that are interested in the job, and out of the sake of fairness, I have to interview them as well, but I'll get back to as soon as I can, Riley."

Riley grinned, standing up and extending his hand as Tom made his way around the desk. "Thank you, Tom. Really."

The elder man grasped the offering, shrugging. "I do owe you, Beaumont." Gesturing back to Rory's articles, Tom let out a huff of light exasperation. "I'm not even sure if this will extend or decrease my debt…"

Riley shook his head. "Trust me, Tom, you won't regret this."

Tom laughed at the younger man's zeal. "I'll see that I don't."

"I'll call you about dinner." Riley added as the two men shared a hug.

"Of course." Tom smiled, "Great to see you, kid. Call me about that next novel."

"Will do." Riley responded with a short salute.

Tom turned to Paris, shaking her hand as well. "And it was a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Gellar."

"Likewise, Mr. McFarlane." Paris smiled warmly.

As the pair rotated towards the door, Tom McFarlane's shout caught their attention. "Oh, hey, Riley. Was that your father I saw out there?"

Riley shoved his hands in his pockets, his posture tensing noticeably. "Yep. Turns out the devil makes his jaunt to the earthly worlds once in awhile.

Tom frowned, hitching his head in the direction of the reception area. "What does he want?"

Riley snorted, glancing down as he shook his head. "To talk business with you. Something about a partnership or something."

Tom smiled wryly, a mischievous glint to his brown eyes. "Oh, darn. Well, I suppose I will have to inform the elder Mr. Beaumont that we have actually employed the services of Watson and Locke for all of our advertising needs."

Riley's shoulders shook as he laughed outright. "Ouch, Tom. That's a low blow, hiring the competition."

The elder man sobered, his stare hardening perceptibly. "I don't respect what he's done to you, Riley. It's the least I could have done."

Riley didn't speak for a moment, obviously touched by the gesture. His silver eyes softened as he glanced down, his gratitude hidden by a curtain of hair. "Thanks, Tom."

"Anytime, kid." Tom murmured softly, "Anytime."

Riley and Paris exited the office, strolling down the long hallway. As they passed the reception desk, both overheard with great amusement Joanne regretfully informing Christian Beaumont that meetings with Tom McFarlane were booked well into the next month. Sharing a smile at the elder Beaumont's expense, the pair walked out into the bright summer sunshine of the city.

Riley paused for a moment, glancing at his companion. "Paris, did I do the right thing?"

The blonde's eyes swiveled in his direction, thoroughly bemused at such a question. "What are you talking about, Riley? I think this is the most righteous thing you've ever done for a person and this is coming from your long line of noble deeds."

"No…" Riley gesticulated wildly, groping for the words, "I mean, should I have let her do this on her own? Do you think she's gonna resent me for this?"

Paris sighed, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder to give her hands something to do. "I think that Rory needs someone who has confidence in her. I think your showing your confidence in her abilities by referring her to this job."

Riley contemplated her words as he flagged down a cab. "So I did good?"

Paris rolled her eyes, "Beaumont, if you're fishing for compliments, I'm not willing to oblige."

"I mean it, Paris," Riley insisted. "I did good?"

"Yes, Riley," Paris assured him. "You did good."

As the pair climbed into the taxi, Riley nodded his head in satisfaction. His father may be a selfish, narcissist bastard, but Riley Beaumont was only his father's son in name. And unlike Christian Beaumont, not every one of Riley's actions were for personal gain.

- - -

Rory Gilmore glanced around, completely entranced by her surroundings. Since the two other pairs had come back to Janlan's penthouse, there had been an aura of eerie tension radiating from each of them, and she couldn't deny that the conversation she and Finn had shared brought up some strain as well. After a respite, allowing the afternoon to fade into the evening, Riley finally revealed his surprise for the night. He had reserved a block of tickets to one of the New York performances of the hit Broadway musical, _Wicked_, which starred his mother, Hannah Taylor, as the main character Elphaba.

Diverting her gaze from the lavish atmosphere of the theatre, Rory diverted her eyes down to the Playbill grasped in her hands, the title _Wicked_ splashed over the cover. Riley's surprise had been a welcome change from the somber ambiance of Brandon's funeral and the high intensity and energy of the Yankee's game, and even their prolonged jaunt through many of New York's memorable attractions. He had taken them all to see the New York performance of the highly-acclaimed musical, _Wicked_, which his mother was starring in. Flipping open the Playbill to the Who's Who section, Rory was greeting with a small headshot of Riley's mother as well as an accompanying biography.

**Hannah Taylor **_(Elphaba)_ is a seasoned veteran of the Broadway circuit and is excited to join the _Wicked_ company for the national tour. Her among her numerous credits include _Grease_ (Sandy), _Hairspray_ (Velma Von Tussle), _West Side Story_ (Anita), and _Chicago_ (Roxie). Hannah has one son, Riley Beaumont, a best-selling author, and thanks him as her inspiration and light. "To my son, Riley, and to all of my close confidantes, 'opportunity does not knock, it presents itself when you break down the door.' Peace, love, and prosperity to all."

Rory glanced up just in time as the lights dimmed, her hand catching Tristan's in excitement as she readied herself for the show.

- - -

Rory let out the breath she never knew she held as the lights faded slightly, signaling the end of the scene. The performance had so far been breathtaking, the message poignant and the acting superb. The lights brightened again, and Rory gazed up as Glinda the Good Witch moved to the center of the stage.

_I've heard it said_

_That people come into their lives for a reason_

_Bringing something we must learn_

_And we are led to those_

_Who help us the most to grow_

_If we let them_

_And we help them in return_

_Well, I don't know if I believe that's true_

_But I know I'm who I am today_

_Because I knew you_

_Like a comet pulled out of orbit_

_As it passes the sun_

_Like a stream that meets a boulder_

_Half way through the wood_

_Who can say if we've changed for the better?_

_But, because I knew you,_

_I have been changed_

_For good…_

As the words resonated through the theatre, Rory sat up straighter, the lyrics piquing her senses. Covertly, she snuck a peek at the man beside her, his attention fixated on the stage. Tristan had a small smile on his face, obvious he was enjoying the performance immensely. It was funny, Rory thought to herself, she had never figured Tristan as the type who would like theatre. But, she reasoned, then again, she never thought that he would ever be such a fixture in her life, either.

Riley's mother joined her counterpart on the stage, gracefully almost gliding in her movements. Her angelic timbre rang strong through the atmosphere as she sang, the emotion prevalent in the melancholy song.

_It well may be_

_That we will never meet again_

_In this lifetime_

_So let me say before we part_

_So much of me_

_Is made of what I learned from you_

_You'll be with me_

_Like a handprint on my heart…_

_And now whatever way our stories end_

_I know you have re-written mine_

_By being my friend_

_Like a ship blown from its mooring_

_By a wind off the sea_

_Like a sea drop by a sky bird_

_In a distant wood_

_Who can say if I've changed for the better?_

_But, because I knew you_

Tristan allowed himself to become immersed in the music, entranced by everything around him. He let his eyes to drift to his left, taking in the profile of the girl who had stolen his heart long before he even realized it was gone, let alone figured out where it had gone. She was responsible for so many things: his first meaningful kiss, his first platonic relationship, his first instance of love, his first experience of making love, and the most important, his reason for change. He didn't know

_Because I knew you_

The voices united in an angelic harmony, perfect in synch and beautiful in resonance.

_I have been changed_

_For good…_

Tristan was positive that he was far from perfection. Distantly so, in his opinion, but the one thing that he did know was that his determination to mature and show Rory Gilmore the Tristan Dugrey that was removed from his temptations of the luxuriance and Hartford indifference could possibly steal her heart away the way she had stolen his. The song had it right. Because Tristan Janlan Dugrey knew Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, he had changed for good.

_And just to clear the air_

_I ask forgiveness for all the things I've done_

_You blame me for_

_But then I guess we know there's blame to share_

_And none of it seems to matter anymore!_

_Like a comet pulled out of orbit_

_As it passes the sun_

_Like a stream that meets a boulder_

_Half way through the wood_

_Who can say if we've changed for the better?_

_But, because I knew you,_

_I have been changed_

_For good…_

_Who can say if I have changed for the better_

_I do believe I have changed for the better_

_And, because I knew you_

_Because I knew you_

_Because I knew you_

_I have changed_

_For good…_

Unbeknownst to either party, Tristan and Rory shared the same thought. They had gone through so much together, held each other through sorrow, happiness, and frustration, and emerged stronger and closer than ever. They had both said things that shouldn't have been said, been too stubborn to make the first move, but beneath it all lay the underlining truth: because they had known each other, they had changed for good.

- - -

As the rest of the audience filtered out of the theatre, a select group of young college students lingered behind. Riley shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, casting the occasional glance towards a door near the side of the stage. Tristan couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his best friend so restless.

"Take it easy, Beau. You're going to pop a vein."

Riley snorted. "If this was the only tolerable member of your family, you'd be just as keen, TJ."

"Riley Daniel Beaumont, I don't hear from you for months and then all of a sudden, I find out that you're in New York? You know my policy. I require at least a forty-eight hour notice so I may plan my prying and embarrassing questions ahead of time!"

Riley's face brightened immediately as the elegant figure of his mother appeared, her face fresh from performing, a wide grin gracing her features and her piercing gray eyes sparkling gaily. "That's why I chose to surprise you. I knew everything about my life would be vetted so I figured I'd catch you off balance."

The group of collegiates watched as mother and son shared a laugh with Riley bounding forward, catching the willowy elder woman in his arms, lifting her up off her feet. The connection between mother and son was apparent as Hannah Taylor frowned, flitting about her son, fixing his slightly askew tie and fussing around his hair as he expertly dodged her wandering hands, engaged in a quick, yet obviously familiar banter, mother showing the same quick wit son possessed. Whirling, Riley grabbed his mother's hand, hauling her eagerly to the waiting group, his handsome face boyish in its enthusiasm. Halting before his friends, Riley tugged his mother forward, presenting her with a flourish.

"Everyone, this is my mother, Hannah Taylor. Mom, you already know TJ. This is his best friend, aside from me, Rory Gilmore, and their friends Declan Finnegan, we call him Finn, and Paris Gellar." Riley paused, moving to stand beside Alexandra, his hand quickly finding hers as he brought her to his mother. "And this is TJ's sister and my girlfriend, Alexandra Dugrey."

Hannah extended her hand, her sharp gray eyes surveying her son's girlfriend with a practice eye. Alexandra held her stare, her own blue eyes shining as she glanced back at her boyfriend. Hannah smiled.

"Ah, so this is the woman who has my son completely enamored."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Taylor," Alex answered graciously, her etiquette trained from years under Hartford society's watchful eye.

Hannah laid a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, the warmth and acceptance obvious. "Please, dear, it's Hannah. Anyone who has my normally composed and poised son absolutely giddy is alright with me." Hannah punctuated her claim with a wink of the eye. "After all, you and I have something in common." At Alex's confused look, Hannah leaned in conspiratorially.

"Riley can't resist us no matter how hard he tries…"

- - -

The restaurant was a crush of activity. Waiters bustled from table to table, appeasing their patrons with heaping plates of food, chopsticks and the occasional fork or spoon scraped against plates, and the din of lively chatter hung over the air, but one group seemed oblivious to it all, tucked away in the private room at the corner of the restaurant. Hannah Taylor had wrapped her collegiate companions up in a story of Riley's childhood, much to his complete and utter dismay.

"…So, it was Riley's fifth birthday…"

"Mo-om…" Riley's deep voice had taken on a petulant whine as he once again attempted to encumber the story she was telling to the group.

Hannah brushed her son off with a dismissive wave, her chopsticks firmly grasped in one hand. "Oh, hush, Riley Daniel! They're your friends, I'm sure you've made a fool of yourself one time or another around them. What's one more?"

Riley hunched down as far as his six-three form would allow in his chair, crossing his arms and pouting like an insolent child. Hannah gave him an admonishing look before returning her attention back to the group of collegiates.

"Anyway, so it was Riley's fifth birthday – this is, of course, when Riley's father and I were married – and we had this wonderful party at the house. Everyone was there, my friends, Christian's friends, all of our family. Now, we're all waiting for the birthday boy because Christian had this absurd notion that a five year-old should make some kind of entrance." Hannah paused, remembering what transpired next fondly as Riley cringed, sinking even further out of sight, waiting for it all to be over.

"So all the guests are waiting in our foyer when Riley comes bounding down the stairs, stark naked. He throws his hands in the air and screams to the guests, 'Welcome to my party!'" Snorts of laughter permeated the table as Hannah continued.

"Naturally, Christian is _incensed_. He stalks up to Riley and in the most controlled voice he can manage asks him, 'Riley, son, what happened to your nice suit?' Riley looks back up at his father, hands on his hips, and says with a completely straight face, 'Daddy, Uncle Chase said when you're nudie, it's your birthday suit. Well, isn't it my birthday?'"

Roars erupted through the table, startling the other patrons on the other side of the barrier. Finn had fallen off of his seat, the tears pouring down his cheeks, Paris covered her mouth with her hands, trying in vain to restrain her own giggles, and Alex was busy wiping her own tears of mirth while Tristan tried to catch his breath from the severe lack of oxygen his laughter was inducing. Rory buried her face into Tristan's chest, her shoulders shaking violently as Riley hung his head, his face an interesting shade of rose in complete embarrassment.

"I am never going to hear the end of this…" He mumbled, busying himself with his food as he avoided eye contact with the rest of the table.

Alex wrapped an arm around her boyfriend, pinching him lightly in the side. "Aw, don't worry, honey, you look amazing in whatever you wear. Why should your birthday suit be any different?"

"Yeah, Beau," Tristan added, grinning widely, "it's not like you were an ugly kid. I'll bet you got all those ladies swooning even back then." He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe it was an allusion to your future career as a Chippendale's dancer."

A distressed sheen to his features, Riley grabbed his drink, gulping down the scotch in the glass. "I despise you all," he mumbled through a mouthful of chow mien.

- - -

A few hours later, the group still chattered animatedly, exchanging stories, sharing experiences, all the while entranced with the elder woman. Riley couldn't help but smile as he saw his girlfriend laughing with his mother as though she had known Hannah Taylor all of her life. Riley leaned back. This was his family.

"So we snuck into his barracks in the early morning, Jimmy Strong had let us in, and grabbed him from his bed." Tristan's eyes shone with nostalgia as he recounted the story to the table. "We strip him down to his skivvies and tape him up to the statue of Ulysses S. Grant in front of the mess hall."

Hannah gasped in shock as she whirled to her son. "Riley Daniel! Your father sent you to that blasted school so that you would reform yourself not indulge in your normal mischief."

Riley grinned, reaching over to take one of the fortune cookies offered out to him. "Aw, c'mon, Mom. What's a little fun?" He smirked winningly.

"You know I worship Puck daily as a deity." Riley shrugged innocently. "Besides, the little bugger was begging for it."

Riley returned his attention to the confection before him. He had always found the fortunes inside a bit of a novelty, always humoring himself with the words of eminent wisdom and never taking the advice seriously. Cracking open the cookie, he pulled out the slip of paper nestled inside, his eyes scanning over the fortune.

_**Even in the brightest of sunlight lies the darkest of shadows.**_

At the words, Riley frowned. He may have never taken the fortunes to heart, but amidst the circumstances, this particular piece was worth a second look. As a man who relished in subtle connotations, Riley felt the meaning strike deeply in his conscious mind. A slight frown on his face, Riley loosened the tie around his neck, the garment suddenly constricting, and he slid the fortune in his pants pocket.

After paying the check and leaving a generous tip, the group stepped outside in the evening air, bidding goodbye to Riley's mother, and they halted for a moment, taking in their breathtaking surroundings. The simplicity of the city skyline amidst their nighttime ambiance provided a stark contrast as the bright lights fell against the dark night sky. Riley surveyed his companions as they paired off. Rory elbowed Tristan as he slung an arm across her shoulders, leaning in to whisper something for her ears only, taking off in giggles at his grunt in pain. She squealed as he chased her down, catching her around the waist and twirling her around. Paris and Finn ambled along after them, locked in some kind of heated debate, both gesturing wildly in emphasis. After a few moments, the Riley jumped slightly as he felt a hand slip into his, and he grinned down at his girlfriend. Alex smiled as he tugged on her hand, pulling her off to the side. Riley dipped his head down, resting his forehead on hers before claiming her lips in an embrace teeming with passion. As they pulled away, Alex stared up into his warm silver gaze, the desire evident in the pewter spheres. She rested her head on his shoulder before they resumed their stroll, hands entwined. Riley glanced down at his girlfriend as his fingers caressed the slip of paper snuggled in his pants pocket. And dropping a kiss atop her blonde locks, Riley hoped to God it wouldn't prove to be true.

_Okay, first of all, before all the Paris/Riley lovers aim blunt objects at my head, let me just say that those two are not completely over. We still have more story left that features both of them reevaluating the decision they made in this chapter. On that note, many have asked how much longer this journey will be, and as of now, I'm thinking somewhere in the mid-twenties concerning the chapter count. But don't quote me. I also got a question on Lorelai and when she will make her re-appearance, and the answer to that is pretty soon since Riley and Tristan are going to ask something of Rory in return for the job at the New York Times. And, lastly, **I WILL MOST CERTAINLY NOT** have April in this story. I despised that storyline and thought it most unnecessary. Also, I know there wasn't that much Tristan/Rory in this chapter, but the focus is going to actually be around Riley and Alex for a moment before we revert back to the Trory goodness. Their relationship is actually going to build as events occur that center around our second couple. Logan will also make his reappearance, and Paris and Finn will play a big role in the upcoming events as well. As for other characters who made their reappearance in season six, that isn't quite an impossibility. Just saying…_

_Roxy_


	17. I Blame This All, Part I

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing including a random allusion to The Killer's song "Mr. Brightside."_

_Surprise! Early update. I was planning to post this pretty close to Christmas, but then I actually finished this chapter a lot earlier than expected. It may be a bit shorter than previous ones, it's only about seventeen pages on Word, but lemme tell you, writing thirty pages (the length of the last chapter) is difficult work! I'm not planning on updating again until the new year, but we'll see. _

_Just to let you all know, this is not a happy chapter. In fact, it is rather deprecating. Much of the drama in this chapter, however, sets the stage for the resolution at the end. Keep in mind that nothing is set in stone, and many things may change. I won't promise anything, but know that this story is almost at the end. I may go under my expected number of mid-twenties, I may go over. Until then, have fun with this chapter._

_Just so this is clear, the timeframe of everything that is happening now is during the summer after season five. Therefore, everything is taking place from May to September. As of now, we're saying that the present date is late June, 2006._

_Onward!_

**Chapter 17**

_I Blame This All on My Selfishness, Part I_

Riley glanced forlornly down at the complete mess of papers littering the table in the penthouse sitting room. The pages and pages of dialogue, character descriptions, plot, and setting stared back up at him, prolific in their amount, but no closer to becoming a completed novel. Plucking a set of thinly-framed spectacles off of his nose, Riley negligently rubbed his temples, wishing for the impending migraine to subside. The absence of a finished novel was only one of the many quandaries presented to him at the moment, one of which was set to pick up his girlfriend for a "friendly" day out in about fifteen minutes.

Leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees, Riley absently twirled his pen through his long fingers, willing the disjointed pages to magically merge together and form a novel. As Riley sat huddled on the couch, deep in his mental ponderings, his mind wandered to Alexandra and her imminent jaunt around the city with Ian Michaels. Inwardly, Riley sighed. He never thought himself as a particularly insecure man, but relationships, just like any with other person, were one area where his confidence and poise merely did not transcend. He had gone through enough heartache and strife in his twenty-one years with Paris, his two prior girlfriends, and Alex. Riley Beaumont was ready to have a nice, normal relationship. It wasn't that he didn't want Alex to have other friends, that was just selfish. Putting it simply, he did not trust Ian Michaels. The young man reminded him too much of Logan Huntzberger. Riley had always felt he was a good judge of character and something about the young socialite inexplicably rubbed him the wrong way. He normally did not succumb to pettiness, it was far too juvenile, but something about Ian Michaels did not sit well with him. However, be as strong as his apprehensions may, the thing was, Riley trusted his girlfriend completely and implicitly. And that was going to have to cut it.

The elegant chiming of the doorbell tore the young author from his thoughts, and he replaced the spectacles on his nose before hefting himself off the sitting room couch and padding the short way to the door. Opening, Riley gazed into the hazel spheres of Ian Michaels. The younger boy jerked back slightly at the looming figure hovering in the entryway. Ian mustered up a smirk, unconsciously straightening as Riley's gaze swept over his attire.

"Hi. Is Alex ready?"

"No." Riley's face remained impassive as stepped back to allow Ian entrance, noticing the well-pressed slacks and crisp button-up shirt. For a moment, the two males sized one another up, and Riley could see the flicker of distaste in Ian's eyes at his apparel. Slowly, Riley nodded his head in comprehension, carefully masking his own emotions behind a poised veneer. "Right. Today's that little outing you planned." Closing the door behind the boy, Riley made his way to the kitchen adjacent to the sitting room, tossing a question over his shoulder.

"You want a drink?"

Ian's eyes swept across the expansive lodgings, an arrogant light to his stare. Returning his attention to Riley, he shrugged. "Sure. A San Pellegrino if you have it."

Bent over the fridge, Riley rolled his eyes, one eyebrow lofted in slight irritation. Straightening, he tilted the bottle towards the haughty socialite. "Sorry. Anything carbonated in here's a soft drink. You wanna settle for some Dasani?"

Ian smiled a tight smile, shaking his head in the negative. "That's okay. Thanks anyway."

Shrugging his acquiescence, Riley made his way back to the couch, plopping down as he skimmed back over the muddle of papers strewn across the surface of the table.

"So what do you have planned?"

Ian shuffled, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he gazed around the penthouse sitting room. "I thought we'd just have lunch, talk, you know, as friends."

"Uh-huh." Riley's eyes had fixated back onto one of the papers, shuffling it behind another. Ian followed his eyes, gesturing down to the pages.

"Is that your next novel?"

"Sort of," Riley answered, his piercing gaze absorbing one page as he cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "It's kind of a mix between the one after my next one and the ending to my latest. I'm having troubles between a continuation or two definitive novels. I'm not quite sure if I want to write a sequel…"

Ian nodded, settling down on the chair beside the couch. "It's really great of you to let me take out Alex."

Riley shrugged, not sparing the younger boy a glance even as he caught the slight undertone in Ian's voice. "Far be it for me to deny my girlfriend a chance to spend time with her friends. I trust Ali. It's not like I find you as a threat."

Riley didn't have to glance up to find Ian bristling at his remark. His words may have stated the contrary, but Riley knew that he did, indeed, find Ian Michaels a threat. The upstart boy didn't have to know that, however. Before Ian could muster a retort, Alex bounded down the staircase, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Oh, Ian, you're already here."

Ian threw out a smirk as he stood, shrugging compliantly. "Of course. I'm always punctual."

"Yes, if only you'd pass that onto Riley, then I'd be set." Alex returned, gently teasing her boyfriend still perched on the couch, his expressive gaze currently still fixated on his work.

Riley didn't even bother to refute her comment, grinning charmingly. "Ah, babe, you know by now to give me a five minute grace period. It's nothing new."

As he leaned back, placing the paper that was in his grasp on the coffee table, Alex allowed her eyes to scan her boyfriend's outfit, taking in the white, v-neck t-shirt that displayed his muscular physique and the pair of worn corduroys that hung just so low on his hips as his bare feet poked out from beneath the hems. Just seeing him so casually alluring tested her sexual resolve, as well as her decision to leave him for the afternoon, right then and there. Riley stood, meeting her on the other side, and tearing her eyes from her boyfriend's pectorals, Alex glanced up into his silver spheres.

"So what are you going to do to entertain yourself while I'm gone?"

Riley hitched a thumb to his work on the table. "Hopefully convert that mound of shredded tree into some semblance of a comprehensive work of literature." His stare drifted desolately to the mess of paper. "My agent has pretty much been on my ass to produce another book to appease the ravaging masses entranced with my last work."

Riley forced out a smile. "Plus, my creative muses have suddenly been reawakened and subsequently must be transferred from my mind to a more expedient working means which, unfortunately, connotes I have to obtain said means."

Alex cast an amused look in his direction, her confusion prominent in the expression. Riley chuckled in her perplexity. "In other words, I need to buy more paper from that store across from the park so I can write everything down."

"Couldn't you have just said that?" Alex ventured, crossing her arms across her chest.

Riley sent her a pointed glance. "I told you I was having a creative surge…"

Alex giggled as she nodded, leaning up for a kiss. Riley obliged, pecking her softly on the lips. But as he drew away, he was surprised to see a pout gracing his girlfriend's face.

"I'm gonna be gone for a few hours and that's how you send me off?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Riley felt a slight surge of masculine pride as he more than eagerly accommodated his girlfriend, drawing her into an ardent lip lock. Engrossed in their embrace, neither one noticed the flash of emotion behind Ian's eyes as he witnessed the very public display of affection, turning away as he saw Alex's hand slip down to Riley's lower back. Releasing her, Riley grinned, rotating her towards the door as he gave her a slight shove forward.

"Have fun. I'll be here when you come back."

Turning, he made his way back to the couch. A deceptively coy smile gracing her lips, Alex followed, snaking one arm around his chest as he settled back down, tangling her fingers in the chain of the medallion around his neck. "Don't work too hard. I don't want you tired when I get back." Dipping her head down, Alex whispered something in his ear. At her words, Riley's eyes widened, bugging slightly, one eyebrow lofting skyward as his lips mouthed an "ooo…" as he considered the implications. Satisfied at his reaction, Alex pressed a kiss to the side of his temple before waltzing out.

Riley allowed his gaze to linger at the door where Alex had just left with Ian. Frowning slightly, he tossed his pen on the table, leaning back to massage his face. He hated the feeling that didn't seem to want to exit his body, the overwhelming suspicion and foreboding, but nothing he did seemed to alleviate the tension lurking beneath his surface. All he could do was sit and wait for Alex to return, hopefully just the exact same way that she had left.

- - -

Tristan was bored. Janlan's penthouse was a rather big structure, and there was too much room for the amount of people they held, abnormally numerous as they may be. He could do a number of things, their lodgings were well equipped with massive amounts of entertainment, but he was never one to sit idly by. Everyone else was otherwise occupied. Riley was out in the sitting room, scribbling furiously against a wad of pages that threatened to engulf his frame. Tristan was positive that disturbing his best friend would be possibly detrimental to his health as evidenced when he had last tried to divert Riley's attention. Riley's eyes hadn't strayed from the page before him, utilizing one hand to wave Tristan off, an aggravated and incoherent grunt rippling from his lips, the other hand flying across the paper, his messy scrawl getting even more haphazard as the ideas flowed. Alex was off with Ian Michaels and Paris and Finn had stepped out to grab a bite to eat. Sticking his head in Rory's room, Tristan gazed in amusement and fond admiration as he watched her lithe frame sprawl out against the satin sheets of her bed, her brilliant blue gaze fixated on the novel before her eyes.

"Hey."

Rory glanced up, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Hey back."

Tristan cocked his head, peering down at the book splayed out before her. "You know, I haven't seen this in awhile."

Rory's brow furrowed in confusion. "Seen what?"

Tristan gestured to the book. "Reading."

Rory's face suddenly turned somber. "I haven't had that much time," she admitted. "Everything in my life has been revolved around school, my internship, and Logan." She gazed down at the novel. "I can't really remember the last time I actually read a book from cover to cover.

Tristan stayed silent for a moment, leaning against the doorway. Straightening, he slowly made his way to the bed, settling down beside her. "So are you up for a walk or is the infinite wisdom of," Tristan craned his neck to catch the title of the author of the book clutched in her hands, "Bryce Courtenay too compelling to tear you away?"

Rory laughed. Picking up the card lying beside her, Rory looked at the paper before her eyes for a moment, a contemplative expression on her face, before placing the card between the pages to serve as a marker and grabbing a jacket. "Of course it is, but somehow, I think the limited wisdom of Tristan Dugrey will be far more entertaining."

Tristan grinned his half-smile. "Quite the backhanded compliment there, Gilmore. I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."

Rory giggled, the sound light and pleasing. "You should know by know that's the way we work, Dugrey."

Tristan laughed, a throaty, husky chuckle that reverberated through his chest, sending chills down Rory's spine. Standing, he offered a hand out to her. "That I do, Mary. That I do."

As they made their way to the door, Rory snuck a glance at Tristan's face, a contemplative look on her face. There they were again, the flutterings that always seemed to nag at her senses nowadays, and Rory wasn't sure if she didn't mind them. Everything had changed, that was for sure. No matter how hard she wished the contrary, things between her and Tristan were different. She had given him a part of her, and he had done the same. What would come out of that change? Well, that was a year in the making…

- - -

Paris Gellar shifted uncomfortably, casting a look towards her unlikely companion. Declan Finnegan reclined in his chair, his gaze fixated down on the newspaper situated on the table beside him as they waited for their food. As though he noticed her eyes on him, Finn met her stare, gesturing down to the paper.

"Can you believe that some nut job held hostages at a restaurant near campus?"

Paris started at his address, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she knotted her hands together. "Really? What for?"

Finn chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation as though he wasn't sure what to make of the story. "The hypocrisy of brunch."

Paris cocked an eyebrow. "And what exactly was that argument?"

Finn grinned, scanning the article. "I honestly have no bloody clue, but I'm sure that…" His gaze drifted down to the paper, "Theodore Harrison, third year sociology student at Yale University, holds a very persuasive contention against this hypocrisy of brunch."

Paris didn't even try to stifle the laugh that bubbled up. Finn shared in her mirth, his stare still intently fixated in her direction. Slightly unnerved by the attention, Paris was relieved when their food arrived. Fiddling with her salad, Paris glanced up as Finn set to work on devouring his hamburger.

"Finn?"

Meeting her eyes, a piece of lettuce venturing out from between his lips, Finn cocked his head at Paris' rapt stare. "Hmm?" He mumbled, unable to formulate any other words.

"Why did you ask me out to lunch?"

Finn gazed at her for a moment before swallowing, dousing down his mouthful with his water. He stared at her for a full minute before waving their waiter over to the table. Wiping his mouth, he leaned up to the man.

"Can I have a Foster's beer, please?" As the man rotated, Finn leaned over, catching his sleeve. "Actually make that three?"

The waiter nodded bemusedly before hurrying away, and Finn turned back to his lunch partner. Taking another swig of his water, Finn shot out a charming grin.

"Sorry, I'm gonna need a bit of bravado for this conversation."

Paris' brow furrowed in confusion. "You need alcohol for a simple answer? I'd hate to know what you'd need for something like 'How would you feel having a bouncing baby Finnegan running around in nine months?'"

Finn huffed out a chuckle. "Trust me, love, when something like that happens, I'll go to something stronger than just the merry brew…"

Paris played with her fork, stabbing anxiously at her lettuce. "So why did you ask me out."

As the first of three bottles was placed before him, Finn took a long drink. "Your charming and intellectually stimulating company?"

Paris rolled her eyes. "Can you please take this seriously? This isn't a difficult question, Finn. It's actually pretty simple."

Finn snorted. "Love, you have no idea how difficult this is."

"Really?" Paris ventured, "Is it difficult?"

Finn sighed, throwing down his napkin. "Look, Paris, in my completely inexperienced, absolutely awkward way, this is my way of…" He cleared his throat, awkwardly trailing off.

"Of…?"

Finn diverted his eyes to the ground, one hand coming up to run through his hair. He mumbled something unintelligible, more to the ground than his companion.

Paris frowned, unable to hear his words. "What?"

Again, Finn muttered a series of inarticulate sounds as though he was bordering on discomfiture.

"What?" Paris waved her hands impatiently for him to continue. "Declan Finnegan, just spit it out."

Finn sighed, almost embarrassed at his timidity, such a stark contrast from his normal disposition. Taking another deep drink, Finn let out a suffering breath. "Okay, fine, here it is. I'm not sure if you're ready to hear it as much as I'm ready to say it. Lord knows I haven't had any semblance of a stable relationship or even one that's had any semblance of meaning." Finn scooted his chair closer to the table. "So here it is. I like you, Gellar."

Paris started at his declaration, actually quite simple if you delved past the stalling, unsure if she had heard him correctly, but Finn's passionate, insistent eyes told her she had. He leaned forward, staring straight into her own eyes.

"I have no idea how this happened or why I'm so drawn to you, but the moment you called me Declan, I knew I could possibly have a relationship with you."

Finn hefted a light snort. "You must think I'm crazy. I don't know much about you, and you've only heard the most disparaging things about me, but for some strange reason, you've snuck behind me and beat me upside the head with…_you_. And to finish what I began to say before, this lunch is my completely inexperienced, absolutely awkward way of courting you."

"Courting me?" Paris spluttered in disbelief. "You're courting me?"

"I know that you're an independent, self-sufficient woman, but even independent self-sufficient women deserve to be courted. Just look at _Taming of the Shrew_."

Paris narrowed her eyes, bristling slightly. "The end of that story is the shrew, once a spirited, strong woman, becomes completely obedient and loses all essence of who she was. That's not very encouraging."

Finn inclined his head. "Okay…bad example. But my point is, I'm trying to woo you the way you're supposed to be wooed."

"So I'm guessing you're evolving from drunken one night stands? Whatever happened to the love 'em and leave 'em mentality?" Paris' tone was wry, but Finn could sense her softening to the idea. Unconsciously, he scooted his chair closer. Tentatively, one hand reached out, taking hers, delighted when she didn't pull away.

"Hmm…you are correct, I did employ that means of relations at one point in time, and I do admit I was rather blissful in my ignorance. But maybe I'm growing up. Maybe I see the beauties of a committed relationship. Or maybe I'm just attracted to you. I don't know." Finn glanced down at their intertwined hands.

"All I know is that I'm staggered by you, Paris Gellar, and I know you're still hung up on Beaumont, but that's okay. I'm willing to fight."

"I'm not some trophy to be won, Declan." Paris rejoined, her tone dryly amused.

"But you're considered as one." Finn shot back as her gaze snapped to his. Finn sighed, putting every ounce of sincerity into his actions, his deep chocolate eyes almost pleading in their earnestness, "Look, all I'm asking is for a chance. One chance. Feel free to kick me to the curb when that statute of limitations expires, but be gentle on my bum. It's considered quite the prized possession."

A snort of laughter flew from Paris' mouth. Finn grinned, continuing. "Who knows, Gellar? Maybe I can be everything you wanted in a relationship."

Paris swallowed hard, a shiver passing through her spine that was both exhilarating and frightening. "You don't even know me, Finn."

Finn shook his head, a small grin working its way across his face. "I know enough, Gellar. I know that you intrigue the hell out of me, and I want to find out what's beneath the surface of the abrasive, terse woman of the rumors." Bringing her hand up to his mouth, Finn brushed a soft kiss against the knuckles that, had Paris been standing, would have weakened her knees.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Paris nervously tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "So, this courting business…what's it entail?"

A corner of Finn's mouth tugged upward. "Does this mean you accept?"

Slowly, Paris nodded. "Call me crazy, Finnegan, but this actually might work out."

The small grin adorning his face brightened to a delighted smile as Finn leaned in, capturing her lips in a short, sweet kiss. As he drew away, Paris found herself panting for breath despite the brevity of the kiss, her amber eyes glazed over in a slight daze. Finally gathering her composure, Paris glared into the dark pools across from her, the glint in her eyes lacking the bite it normally held.

"Don't you think you should have waited to a bit later in the process before you plant one on me?"

Finn shrugged, not a bit apologetic. "Sorry."

"As you should be." Paris retorted, her hand slipping from his.

Finn's lips curled into a charming grin, devastating in its affect. "Can you blame me, Gellar? You're downright kissable…"

An uncharacteristic blush tinged her cheeks as Paris fought to maintain her severity. "Actually, I've been compared to a porcupine more than once."

Finn smirked. "Why do you think I brushed up on my quips and witticisms before I came? Lord knows it's hard to keep up with you when you're prickly."

A girlish giggle escaped from her lips, and Paris dropped her eyes to her lap, slightly abashed. "So, uh, if you ever possessed the urge to do that again, just to let you know, I wouldn't be completely opposed to it."

Finn chuckled, raising his bottle in a salute. "Glad to hear that. It's definitely going to be a regular occurrence."

Paris returned her attention to her salad, a small shock of pleasure reeling through her senses as she reveled in the comfortable silence between them. She was being courted by Declan Finnegan. Whouda thunk that one?

- - -

Riley huffed out an exasperated growl, flinging his pen to the table, watching it bounce away with unbridled frustration. Leaning forward, Riley propped his chin on his fist, staring down at the mess of papers before his eyes. He had written another seven pages, but had progressed further to the completion of his novel. Worst part: he had run out of paper.

Grumbling under his breath, Riley hefted himself off the couch. His eyes fixated desolately down at the chaos of pages scattered across the surface of the table, Riley gathered the papers together, arranging them neatly into a stack before tossing them by his messenger bag in his room. Gathering his keys and a jacket and slipping his feet into a pair of sneakers, he stuffed a wad of cash into his back pocket, and running an aggravated hand through his hair, Riley headed towards the door.

As he walked down the street, in the direction of the drug store across the way from the local park, Riley couldn't help but have his thoughts drift away back to Alex, and he smiled. For the first time in his life, he was really, truly happy. He was always pretty happy before, but now, it felt as though a void had been filled. He had found someone with whom he could connect with, who understood him implicitly, and could relate to him. And it sure did help that she was drop-dead gorgeous. After all the drama with every previous relationship he had, it was nice for one with a semblance of normalcy.

Riley huffed a heavy sigh. It was late June and heading into the early days of July. Independence Day was coming up, and along with the dog days of summer came a certain anniversary. It was just after Independence Day when Riley received the news that would forever change his life. July 8, 1996, Chase Beaumont died. Riley remembered the day vividly, and there was no chance that he would ever forget. The summer days were slowly slipping away, bringing the school year closer and closer. But Riley wasn't sure he was ready to leave the comfort of the bubble he and Alex existed in to face the inquisitive masses of the Yale University student body quite yet. He knew for a fact that their relationship would fall beneath a heavily magnified microscope of scrutiny, and he didn't know if either he or Alex was ready for that kind of attention. At the same time, Riley could feel an inkling of excitement. Spare for a few public appearances, they had pretty much kept themselves within the confines of indoors. With the school year coming up, they could actually go out together in public.

Riley smiled, a simple joyous gesture. He pushed away whatever fears, whatever apprehensions he had about the future aside. No matter what the complications, the fact of the matter remained simple: for the first time in a long time, he was happy, and a good amount of that happiness was attributed to Alexandra Dugrey.

- - -

The bright, sunlight trickled down through the sparse clouds as Tristan and Rory meandered together through the streets of New York. Tristan shifted slightly to grin at his companion.

"Well, isn't this better than _The Power of One_?"

Rory cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, same premise. Young boy grows up hiding behind a mask in a divided society that's based on where you live and on the way realizes the power of the individual spirit, effectively shedding his mask and embracing his individual spirit." Rory nudged the tall man beside him, a walking personification of the novel. "Sounds pretty similar to me."

"Yeah, that is true." Tristan admitted. "I even had my trusty sidekick with me."

Rory giggled. "I don't think Riley would appreciate being called a sidekick, Tris."

"Maybe not." Tristan agreed. "Chances are, he'd probably take my head off, but in essence, he is my Morrie Levy. And, I don't deny having lusted after a teacher before." Laughing as Rory's mouth dropped in astonishment, he dodged a swipe at his arm. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Tristan smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Rory's ear.

"You know, I've always found inspiration in that book. We had to read it freshman year at Chilton. Not many people got it, but I definitely did." Tristan allowed a smile to tug up at the corner of his mouth. "I never forgot this one line."

Rory slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, bringing their bodies closer together. "What line?"

Tristan paused, the words flowing easily from his mouth. "'Pride is holding your head up when everyone else has theirs bowed. Courage is what makes you do it.'" Tristan shook his head, "I never forgot that…" Stopping before a kiosk, he gestured towards the vendor.

"I don't really have to ask, but, coffee?"

Rory's eyes lit up with glee at the sight of her beloved beverage. "Silly man, you know that asking is simply a formality." She thrust one finger skyward. "Cursed be the day that I deny my life's beverage."

Tristan chuckled nudging her with an elbow. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, thank you."

Rory shrugged. "Sure. But what fun would that be?"

"Always odd, Gilmore. Always odd."

Rory beamed as she took the beverage from his grasp. "Thank you."

Walking along, they sat down on the massive steps of a large government-looking building. Tristan was silent for a moment before turning to her.

"There's been something I've been wanting to ask you."

Rory frowned at the hesitancy veiled within his deep voice, and she rotated to face him, nervously taking a sip from her cup. "Shoot."

Tristan shifted before continuing slowly. "What in the world would compel you to steal a yacht and subsequently be arrested for stealing said yacht?"

Rory's eyes plummeted downward as her cheeks reddened with shame. "Oh…you heard that."

"Kinda hard to ignore." Tristan replied, his voice holding no accusations, only a gentle curiosity.

Rory sighed, her gaze drifting down to the deep depths of her coffee cup. After a moment, she met his inquisitive stare, finally able to release the quandaries she had held inside for the past few months. "I've wanted to be a journalist since I was three. Most of my life has been devoted to chasing that goal, then to getting Mitchum Huntzberger to see that I deserved his internship." Rory shook her head.

"And, when I had it, it was a constant struggle to meet the demands placed on me, to consistently perform at my best for an end that seemed so ambiguous. I ended up hearing from him that 'I didn't have it.'"

Despondently, Rory shook her head, the memories aching beneath her surface. "It was the first time in my life that I was told I couldn't do something. I had spent my entire life working towards this objective. Once that was taken away from me, I didn't know what I had." Rory's eyes diverted to the ground. "I had no idea what to do with myself. I guess I released all those frustrations in a bout of spontaneity."

"So you stole a yacht?" Tristan's eyebrow shot skyward at the completely uncharacteristic action of his best friend.

Rory shrugged. "Yeah, stupid, I know." She huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know, I always seemed to lose inhibitions with Logan. I mean, I did jump off a scaffold with him."

"Was it collapsing?" Tristan snorted, his voice a deadpan.

Rory shook her head. "I don't know, it was like I lost my purpose."

Tristan scoffed, shaking his head. Inwardly, he cursed Mitchum Huntzberger, wishing a long and painful death on his pitiful existence. "You haven't lost your purpose, Rory. You have the entire universe at your fingertips if that's what you wish, Rory. The world doesn't end with Mitchum Huntzberger."

Gently grasping her arm, he tilted his head to meet her gaze. "Don't you get it? Your life isn't over just because he can't see talent if it knocked him upside the head and caused blunt-force trauma. Your life is just beginning. You have all this talent, all this raw ability and desire at your fingertips. You can do anything, be anything. All you have to do is want it enough. Then you reach out and grab it."

Rory snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. "Tristan, it's hardly as easy as you make it out to be."

"Hell, I know that." Tristan grinned, his thumb tracing the outside of his cup. "I'm past that stage of naivety. But nothing good came out of idle existence. You have to work for it. But you're not even considering anything. You're too scared to even try. You're so content on wallowing in your self-pitying state rather than going out into the big, scary, unknown world and seeing what's there for you outside of the universe that revolves around Mitchum Huntzberger."

Rory paused, her eyes reverting to the clear blue afternoon sky. "What if there's nothing for me?"

This time, Tristan snorted, responding with a toss of his head. "Oh, c'mon, Rory. Enough with this self-perpetuation. You're better than this. It's never about what the world can give you. Sure, that's part of it. But if you base aspirations on that, you're gonna find yourself floundering in limitations and restrictions. It's always been about what you can bring to the world." Tristan punctuated his statement with a thrust of his finger.

"The possibilities are endless if you make for yourself what you want to be. If all you convey is trepidation and anxiety then that's all you're going to get in return. You're gonna be holding yourself back for fear of a misstep. But if you display confidence and determination, anything becomes possible because that's how you make it."

Tristan rotated, straddling the step as he turned to face Rory directly. "It's always been about _carpe diem_, Rory. Seize the day. Find out what you want, grab onto it, and hold on for dear life. That's the way everything works. That's why it's the motto I live by."

Rory paused, her brilliant eyes searching Tristan's as she absorbed his words. "What are you bringing to the world, Tristan?"

Tristan grinned, spreading his arms wide, embracing the ambiance around him. "My dazzling personality and charm."

Rory shook her head in amused exasperation. Leave it to the ever-confident Tristan Dugrey to insert a random bout of frivolity into an otherwise staid conversation.

As his words resonated in her mind, Rory's face sobered again. "What if I screw it all up again? What if I make the wrong choice?"

Tristan allowed himself a small smile, a chuckle rumbling through his throat. "Hate to break it to you, Gilmore, but that's nothing new. We're human. We screw up, make mistakes. It's gonna happen."

Tristan scoffed, pointing to himself. "Hell, I make them all the time. My record isn't one to be desired. Just look at high school." Tristan gently turned her face, bringing her eyes to meet his. As Rory gazed into the endless navy depths, she saw the years of experience and truth shining beneath the surface. Heaving a heavy breath, Tristan squeezed gently. "But the more important thing is to transcend where others err."

"You can't be scared to make a mistake." Tristan murmured, his voice lowered to an affectionate whisper as he placed his cup down, his now-free hand reaching up to caress her cheek. "If you're gonna do something, you have to go at it full throttle, no regrets. You gotta be able to put your all into whatever it is, regardless of the repercussions."

Rory's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, her senses surging into overdrive. Against the urgings of her heart, her head battled back with reason, as feeble as the argument may be. "You've always had faith in me, Tristan. Why? I've hardly deserved your faith."

Tristan glanced down, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Because I know better than anyone the capability you have of making an impact on this world. I know the capability you have to change people, Rory; the capability you have to leave a lasting impression on those you touch." Tristan nudged her gently, recapturing her attention. "Know why?"

Rory's head shifted back and forth in a slow gesture in the negative. Tristan's voice lowered to an intimate murmur. "Because I experienced it first-hand. You changed me, Rory Gilmore. You changed me for the better, and hell if I'm gonna let you stem that gift because one bull-headed ignoramus can't see you for the amazing genius that you are. You have a talent Rory. A talent with both words and actions to touch all those with whom you come into contact with. Share that talent. Use it. Own it. Change other people because you can. Change the world because you can."

With those words, her heart finally beat her head into submission. There it was for her to finally realize, the most important epiphany that had been stifled beneath years of apprehensions and anxieties: Rory Gilmore wanted to be with Tristan Dugrey. All of the boys before him: Dean, Jess, Logan, they were all just distractions from the truth, all diversions from an actual meaningful relationship. But they had all left. He had always stayed even as she pushed him away, and there he was now, right before her. She had always felt it, but now, she was realizing it. With a sigh of relief, Rory leaned in, cutting off whatever words he had next with a frantic kiss. Immediately, Tristan responded, his tongue probing gently against the seam of her lips, slipping between as she willingly opened to him. A groan wracked through his throat as she deepened the kiss, her arms winding up to clasp around his neck, her fingers tangling in the tousled strands of his hair. Her subtle perfume lingered in the air as Tristan drew her even closer, his soft, pliable lips drinking in every ounce of the passion she was offering him. His head swam as he registered exactly what was happening, forcing himself to etch the memory in his mind.

Rory sighed as Tristan's hands glided from her back to frame the sides of her face, his fingertips lightly tracing the contours of her features. The sensations sizzling through every vein in her body burst forth in a wave of passion as Tristan's intoxicating lips and ministration burned a path through her core, giving back just as much as they took, leaving her trembling in their wake. All too soon, the kiss ended, both chests heaving with the need for oxygen, eyes boring into one another, struggling to comprehend their actions.

"What was that for?" Tristan's voice came out in a hushed whisper, unable to believe what he had just experienced. His hands still cradled her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones while her hands grasped at the lapels of his jacket.

Rory bit her lip, slightly swollen from their intimate embrace. "That was about five years of repressed emotions." Rory murmured back.

"Rory," Tristan's voice was gravely serious, the volume barely reaching the decibel of a whisper, "don't kiss me like that unless you expect something to come out of it."

Rory's eyes drifted shut as she gathered her composure and organized her thoughts. "I don't know what I expect, Tristan." Sighing heavily, she buried her face in her hands.

"From the beginning, I've never known what to expect with you, Tristan. I've thought everything through, made every list I could think of. I've discussed this with every person who could possibly have any sort of useful knowledge with this type of situation, I've had endless battles between head and heart." Rory threw her arms in the air. "I've even consulted a Magic Eight Ball. And all of those things seem to say the same thing." Rory's face took on a helpless light.

"But I don't know if it really is the right decision…No matter how hard I want it to be."

Tristan chuckled, gripping her arms. Her reaction was so typical Rory that he wasn't upset, rather amused. Trailing one finger down her the furrow in her brow, he grinned at her. "You're overanalyzing it, Rory. Stop thinking with your head. We both know that's what's gotten us in trouble." Gently, he placed his fingers over her breast, feeling the pulse quicken beneath the tips. "Think with your heart. What does it tell you?"

Rory smiled, running her hands up his chest, "That this…you and I…whatever it is, is right. We've always been right." An elated smile on her face, she threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling his the smooth column of skin slightly coarse with stubble before finding her way back to his lips. As she felt Tristan grin beneath her mouth, Rory sighed with pleasure, relaxing into his embrace. Whatever it was between them was right, indeed.

But as they continued along, making their way back to the penthouse, Rory's analytical mind couldn't help but drift back to reason, and she glanced over at the man beside her. Rory Gilmore could very possibly be falling for her best friend, Tristan Dugrey. The thought should exhilarate her. Then why did it scare the hell out of her?

- - -

Alex and Ian strolled down the sidewalk, chatting animatedly about their respective college lives, eating ice cream and just reveling in the summer atmosphere. Alex smiled as the easy conversation flowed between them. It was nice to chat with someone who served as something reminiscent of how everything used to be, how it all was so much easier before Logan Huntzberger and before that senior year.

Together, they settled down on a statue in the middle of the park across the street from a drug store. Ian tossed his cup in the trash, rotating to face Alex.

"So…how long have you and Riley been dating?"

Alex smiled, fiddling with her empty cup. "Uh, a few weeks."

Ian's eyebrows shot skyward. "A few weeks," he echoed. "Really?"

Alex frowned. "Why?"

Ian shook his head. "Nothing, it just seemed like you've been together for longer."

Alex dropped her head, laughing quietly to herself. "Yeah, we would have, but…"

"But…?" Ian pressed, meeting her eyes directly.

Alex shrugged. "There were complications. Riley helped me out of a tough jam and we kind of prolonged the beginning of our relationship."

Ian maintained his façade of friendly curiosity. "Ah, he's like your personal superhero."

Alex's voice had gotten soft, a small smile playing along the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. He's always been there."

"I know." Ian chuckled. " I got the business end of that complex."

Alex shared in his laugh, remembering the day quite vividly. It was nice to sit there, just talking with Ian, reveling in the memories they shared.

Ian stretched, his hazel eyes searching hers intently. "So how have you been?"

"Great." Alex grinned, "I've been really great. School was everything I've ever imagined it to be." Her eyes misted over as, despite all that happened, she was still able to pursue her dream.

"Yeah. It was always your goal to get to Yale. Ever since you were eight." Ian scooted closer, gently grabbing her hand.

Alex's head shot up, one eyebrow lofted. "You remember that?"

Ian gazed imploringly into her pale blue eyes, his intentions vibrantly clear. "I've never really forgotten anything, Alex."

"Neither have I." Alex murmured, her features sobering, "Though I wish I could forget some things."

"You've changed since high school," Ian mused.

Alex scoffed, shaking her head, "More than you know." Unapologetic, she shrugged. "I'm not the same girl I was at Chilton, Ian."

"Aw, sure you are." Ian brushed off her claim with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Just like I'm the same guy…sort of." Nudging her, he grinned a charming smile. "We're still Phil and Lil."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at the old nickname their parents had bestowed upon the pair when they were young children. "You'd think after nineteen years, you'd move away from _Rugrats_, Ian."

"Hell no." Ian promptly replied. His eyes dropping down to his hands, he shuffled anxiously, a gesture that wasn't lost on Alexandra. "So, you love him?"

At her confused glance, Ian elaborated, gesticulating vaguely. "Him. Riley."

Caught unawares at the sudden question, Alex hesitated for a moment. Unsure of his intentions, Alexandra proceeded with their conversation cautiously. "Why are you asking me this? I know you and I are friends, Ian, but you don't know anything about our relationship."

Ian shrugged, refusing to meet her eye. "Have…have you ever thought about us?"

"Us?" The uncertainty was evident in her voice.

"Yeah." Ian gestured between them, "You and me?"

Alex sighed, her eyes sweeping away to settle on someplace other than his fixed stare. "Ian…"

"Look, Alex, don't deny it. I know you felt something between us all those years ago. I know you feel it now." Ian insisted, closing the gap between them.

"Ian…"

"Look, he doesn't know you like I do." Ian interjected, "He never will. Do you remember when we were ten, and you fell into the Livingston's fountain? Who jumped in with you so you wouldn't be the only one soaking wet?"

Alex huffed a resigned sigh. "You did."

"Alex, you know all those other girls meant nothing to me. It's always been you, and I know you feel something for me."

Her hand coming up to rub her temples, all facades of friendly pretenses now absent from the conversation, Alex backed away. "Ian, I have a boyfriend."

"But the memories you have with him are nothing like the ones you have with me." Ian persisted. His chest puffing up with an overt display of confidence and arrogance, Ian shot out a confident smirk. "Admit it, Alex. We're meant to be together."

Still, she rejected the notion, resolute in her loyalty. "No, I can't. Riley–"

"Riley doesn't understand you, Alex." Ian growled, his frustrations that the girl of his dreams was so stanch in her devotion to a delinquent, boot camp author radiating in his words. "You think a _writer_ is going to be able to make you happy? You think he's going to be able to support you?" Ian tilted his head, appealing ardently to her.

"Listen to me. I can give you everything you want. Anything you want. The world and all the universe, if that's what you wish."

"Ian." This time, her tone was firm, the purpose to stave off any further discussion.

"You can't even admit to me that you love the guy." Ian protested.

Alex's eyes flashed with ire as she shoved him back. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Ian."

"Oh, I do, Alex. I know I do." Ian persisted, diminishing the distance she had placed between them. "I know that I can give you more than he ever could. He doesn't deserve someone like you, Alex. He's not good enough."

With an intent look on his face, Ian closed the gap between them, dipping his head down and brushing a slow kiss across her lips. Taken aback, Alex froze, simply receiving his kiss, her mind lost in their previous battle. Regaining her wits, Alex's arms came up to push him away when Ian ended the kiss, a smug smirk curling one corner of his mouth, his hazel eyes dancing with haughty satisfaction, one eyebrow cocked in anticipation of her imminent reaction of undying love.

"Tell me you didn't feel anything."

Alex's eyes widened in horror at what had just transpired, her hand drifting up to her mouth as realization crashed solidly into her now very clear mind. "Oh, God."

"Alex."

At the sound of his eager voice, Alexandra whirled to face him, her face set determinedly. "I didn't feel anything, Ian. No matter how hard you try to persuade me otherwise, the only man in my life will be…" A familiar figure caught her eye as she gazed over his shoulder, and the bullet sliced deep within her heart at the devastated sheen to his gray eyes, his broad shoulders slumped, knowing he had witnessed every single moment of their conversation. As the silver eyes steeled to a dark iron, the shoulders straightening with intent, he marched straight in their direction as the name burst weakly from her mouth.

"Riley…"

- - -

Riley sighed as he exited the drug store, seemingly bemused that they chose that day to run out of any and all paper. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he considered his prospective choices. He could trek all the way back to the penthouse and scavenge every single room for some kind of implement that could serve the same general purpose as paper, he could walk another few blocks to the next drug store and hope that it didn't have the same misfortune of not possessing the most common instrument known as paper, or he could just not write. Even as he deliberated over the last possibility, his muse berated him, ardently reminding him of the many plot points and character scenarios he had yet to transfer onto paper. Well, that vetoed that final alternative.

Glancing up, he noticed with slight fascination that a pair had situated themselves near the statue in the middle of the park. As the male turned to toss what seemed to be an empty ice cream cup into the nearby trash, Riley recognized, to his extreme displeasure, the proud, supercilious features of Ian Michaels, meaning the girl across from him had to be his wonderful girlfriend by default.

As he gazed at the conversing companions, Riley shifted slightly, weighing his options. He could go over there and make friendly conversation before going about his merry way. The problem was, Alexandra would seriously be under the impression that he was checking up on her, and Riley didn't wish to betray any notions that he didn't trust his girlfriend. On the other hand, he could continue about his business, but run the risk that Ian could possibly make a move, leaving him in the dark, but solidifying his trust in his girlfriend. Riley pondered the decision carefully. Honestly, it was a no-win either way. Aye. There was the rub.

Choosing the latter, Riley turned to depart. He trusted Alex. That was one of the supplementary and implicit increments of love, right? Satisfied that he had made the right decision, as difficult as it may have been, Riley began to go on his way when a movement caught his eye. And what happened next pierced his heart right through the core.

At first, he swore that he imagined it. It was just an affectation of his paranoid psyche. Alex would never kiss Ian Michaels, not when she professed her love to him. But as his conscious mind registered the scene before him, Riley's head swam, his shoulders slumping with the weight of agony crashing down upon them. As they pulled away, Alex seemed dazed, her hand drifting up to feel her lips, lips that had been defiled by a person that wasn't him. And when her eyes met his from over Ian's shoulder, Riley saw her mouth form one single word.

"Riley…"

The look on her eyes fueled his wrath as his eyes narrowed to pale silver slits and his shoulders stiffened. Through the haze of his anger, Riley barely recognized Alexandra jumping away from Ian as the younger boy turned, and with a rage he didn't even know he possessed, Riley stalked over to the pair, his pewter eyes flashing dangerously. Ian Michaels stood there, a smug smile adorning his arrogant face that fanned the flames of Riley's unbridled ire. Reaching the pair, he ignored Alexandra, grabbing the collar of Ian's shirt before slamming him up against the statue. Not a word escaped his grim lips, the hate flaring in his cold eyes far more frightening than any hostile words. In one swift movement, Riley thrust his knee up, striking Ian solidly in his manhood. His face remained inexpressive as he relished in the squeak of pain erupting from the boy's throat, doubling him over. Riley reared back, before whipping his fist upward in a vicious uppercut, a surge of satisfaction washing through his body as his fist met bone sending Ian crashing to the ground with blood pouring from his nose. Hovering over the fallen boy, his jaw clenched in an eerily calm manner, Riley only stared, not making a move, the hate burning from his gray eyes. Finally, he only shook his head and turned away. Without another glance at Alexandra, Riley stalked back across the street with Alexandra's cries pleading for him to stop. Sure, he was being irrational. Sure, he was being completely unreasonable. But at that moment, Riley Beaumont could hardly bring himself to care.

Purposefully, his long, brisk strides carried him away from the park and to Janlan Dugrey's penthouse as the sound of Alexandra hurrying after him followed in his wake. Wrenching the door open, he stormed into the sitting room as she finally caught up to him, her voice at his back.

"Riley, please!"

Riley halted, his posture tense and powerfully aggressive. After a long moment, he whirled, his eyes blazing with a fierce anger she had never seen present in the pewter spheres before, burning through her body, and when he spoke, a string of tight, terse words barely above a whisper cut through the air, his deep voice fighting to restrain itself.

"Please, what, Alex? Huh? Please forget that I found you kissing another guy? Please forget that my heart feels though it's been torn from my chest and now lies at your feet, shattered into a million pieces? Please forget that I told you _I loved you_?"

His last sentence collided solidly against Alexandra's gut as she flinched, her eyes plummeting down to the ground. Riley's intense, powerful stare didn't yield in the slightest.

"Which one is it Alex?"

"It was only a kiss, Riley!" Alex begged, the guilt palpable in the vulnerability of her bearing. "Only a kiss!"

"Sure. And I'm Mr. Brightside." Riley deadpanned, his disdain clear on his handsome face.

"It meant nothing."

The insistent plea did nothing to alleviate the rage radiating from Riley's body. His gray eyes darkened to a deep cement and just as blank.

"Like hell that makes a difference, Alex." Riley snarled, "Because it means a hell of a lot to me!"

Riley loomed over Alex, the six-inch height difference seemingly larger with Riley's fury, and that was the sight Tristan and Rory walked into as they entered Janlan's penthouse. The giddy, exhilarated expressions adorning each face disappeared as they drank in the scene before them. Tristan spoke first, reacting as any elder brother would to the near-tears expression displayed on his little sister's face.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Riley's face stayed impassive, not betraying any emotion in the slightest, his gaze meaningful as he stared down at the girl responsible. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Finally breaking eye contact, he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, his lips pressed tightly together. Turning away from the group as Paris and Finn entered the room, noticeably holding hands, Riley stalked back into his room, unable to take any more of the happy couples. Tristan's eyes narrowed as he removed his arm from around Rory's waist, following Riley. Storming through the door, Tristan glared down at his best friend perched on the edge of his bed, one finger thrust forward in accusation.

"What did you do?"

Riley huffed a humorless laugh. "What did _I_ do? So you're assuming that I did it?" He was eerily calm, staring up at his best friend with an almost aloof indifference.

"And what she did?"

Riley slapped his knee, chuckling wildly with no impression of mirth behind the gesture. "Ooh! Right for once, TJ. Hit the nail on the head, you did." The veneer of indifference faded as his features clouded over with a myriad of layers, each displaying a various amount of anger.

"What? You're gonna protect baby sister's virtue? Chase big, bad Riley away? You know what? Fine." Riley stood to his full height, his chin jutted forward in an invitation. "Hit me."

Tristan recoiled. "What?"

Riley threw off his jacket, squaring his shoulders. "You heard me, TJ, hit me. You think I'm the cause, go ahead. Take your shot. Even aim for my face, you know that draws the most blood. Go for my balls. Make me never have children again."

Tristan had no idea how to respond, his fists unclenching. "Beau…"

"DAMMIT, TJ, JUST FUCKING HIT ME!" Riley roared, his eyes frenetic with the emotions he struggled to stifle and glistening with unshed tears. Tristan started, taken aback by the aberrant use of profanity that had spewed from his friend's mouth, all façade of his composure completely lost. Riley stood before him, his eyes frenzied and helpless.

"Make me feel any other pain than this one! Take away this numbness. Make me _fucking_ forget that I saw the _love of my life _kissing another man!" His voice had lowered from the deep growl to an adamant appeal, and Riley's chin fell to his chest, his posture rigid. As he raised his head, his somber, defeated eyes meeting Tristan's, a single word burst through Riley's mouth.

"Please."

Tristan stayed silent, unmoving. He had never seen his best friend in this state before: lost and utterly overcome with vulnerability. The gray eyes, normally so steady in their appearance, were unfocused, dimmed with the rush of emotions not habitually prevalent in his system and his proud shoulders were flaccid with the unseen burden placed across them, a burden Tristan hated to think was attributed to his sister.

As he saw his best friend sway with uncertainty, shifting from doing as asked and not, Riley shook his head, the simple action lethargic and pedantic. "You know what? Forget this."

Slowly, Riley rotated, shoving as many clothes as he could into a duffel bag, the rest of his papers into his messenger bag.

Tristan stared at him, unsure of his actions. "Beau, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Riley growled, not meeting his eyes. "I can't stay here."

Tristan moved closer, in an attempt to stave off Riley's movements, backing away when he realized his friend was serious. "Where are you going?"

Riley didn't look up. "California."

Ignoring Tristan, Riley brushed past him, halting in the doorway, surveying the room with a quick sweep of his eyes. Turning sharply on his heel, Riley strode briskly back into the living room, not even sparing Alex a glance. Five pairs of eyes watched his exit, the various emotions playing across each face, flinching as the sharp crash of the door permeated the silence. But among all the sentiments displayed on each face, one shone prevalent among the others. Complete and utter defeat with a foreboding to the future. Alexandra Dugrey didn't know what to do. This was a mistake that's solution remained completely ambiguous, and the one person who could possibly know had just stormed out the front door.

_Well, there you go. two very different kisses with two very different reactions. One couple tests the waters, another finally makes that step while the third is headed down an ambiguous road. This may be painful for some, but everything happens for a reason. I mentioned before that I would never have Riley cheat on Alex, but I never said the same for the latter. Hopefully, I played this out as well as I could without having you all hate Alex, but we'll see. What lies in California for our beloved Riley Beaumont? Well, think about it for a second…maybe backtrack a few chapters, and the answer will come. And what is to become of Riley and Alex? Will Paris make her move? Will Finn makes his? Why is Logan coming back? Will Tristan and Rory stay together? When are Rory and Lorelai going to reunite? Stay tuned. Everything will be answered. Oh, and of course, I leave you with the warning to pay attention to details. You never know when they might come into play._

_And as an advanced warning to all readers, the next chapter might have the rating elevated up to an 'M' status for a tastefully-executed sexual scene. I'm between inserting the scene, and since it is partially necessary to the plot, I may decided to put it in. I'm not sure whether I'm going to keep the rating as I have it now and just place a disclaimer on that next chapter or just raise the rating for the entire story if I do. So until then, stay tuned… _

_Roxy_


	18. Yet You Love Me, Part II

**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing._

_Okay people, here it is, the next chapter. It's a Riley-centered one again, I hope you don't mind, but I've inserted a good amount of Tristan/Rory scenes and Paris/Finn scenes to keep you all satisfied._

_Also, there is a part in this chapter that references religion. I hope this doesn't offend anyone - I don't think it does anyway - and this isn't in any way meant to preach some kind of message or show preference to a single religion or faith, it was simple a utilization of a generalized faith. That will all make sense once you reach the part. _

_And with that warning: Onward!_

**Chapter 18**

_Yet You Love Me, Part II_

Riley Beaumont stepped off the plane into the musky darkness of the terminal of the LAX airport. It was fairly easy to commandeer a flight back to Los Angeles with his connections. A short call to his agent and a few minutes at the ticket counter later, Riley found himself on a first-class, non-stop flight back to his hometown. Weaving in and out of the crush of people clambering to their respective destinations, Riley hitched his duffel bag higher on his shoulder, taking in the sights he hadn't seen since he was twelve.

**_Christian Beaumont strode down the long hallway of the airport, a portrait of the coiffed, sophisticated businessman, his suit expertly tailored to fit his lean frame and nary a single hair out of place. Trodding in his wake was the disgruntled form of his younger son, lugging his duffle bag in a manner only a surly, sullen pre-teenager could manage. The only thing that marred Christian Beaumont's image of utmost composure was the sour expression twisting his attractive features. Turning sharply, his steps brisk and purposeful, Christian stopped at the edge of the numbered gate, waiting for his wayward son to catch up before turning to face him. Leaning down in the guise of an affectionate send-off, Christian managed to keep the disdain in his voice even as his handsome face emanated a cheerful smile. The only evidence of his displeasure was the insistent thrust of his finger beneath Riley's nose._**

**_"Listen, you worthless bastard, this is the absolute last time I stick my neck out for you. Personally, I wouldn't mind dumping your ass in juvenile hall and let the system deal with you, but that wouldn't look to good for my image. But fuck up here, and I won't hesitate to make good on that promise. Your ass will be shipped straight to juvie, and you won't get a cent of the Beaumont money. You got it?"_**

**_Riley lifted brooding, bitter eyes into the glaring emerald of his father's gaze, his own stare unflinching as he took yet another verbal lashing from his father in stride. Such a common occurrence in the two Beaumont men's lives didn't warrant emotion anymore. One hand clutching his carry-on bag, Riley acknowledged Christian's words with a short jerk of his head, his mouth curling upward in a sardonic smirk. "Sure, _Pop_." _**

**_The deliberate enunciation of the term of affection was tinged with a heavy animosity that wasn't lost on the negligent father. A flash within the shrewd jade of Christian's eyes acknowledged the bitter jab as Riley's face didn't change from his indifference. _**

_**"I'm warning you, Riley Daniel."**_

**_Rolling his eyes, Riley acknowledged the final threat with a sardonic salute before he turned away from his father, presenting his ticket to the attendant manning the gate and rotating towards the tunnel. As his back traveled down the hall, Christian watched him go, his son not sparing a glance back in the slightest. As ignorant Christian was to Riley and his emotions, he knew one thing was certain: the only real thing that tied Riley to California was dead, and the reality was that Riley's protests of his new location wasn't entirely with his full heart. As long as Chase Beaumont was dead, Riley didn't give a shit about his location. Because to the twelve year-old boy, the only place worth being was wherever Chase Beaumont was. _**

It seemed so long ago, such a different time. Back then, he was that little shit, Riley Beaumont, who scoffed at any form of authority and found pleasure in petty forms of civil disobedience. Now, he was Riley Beaumont, Ivy League collegiate athlete and best-selling author. Despite the overwhelming doubt of his father, and pretty much everyone else in his life, Riley had made something of himself. One thing remained painfully the same: Chase Beaumont still wasn't with him.

Adjusting the sunglasses that covered his eyes and tugging the cap over his tousled hair, Riley crossed the threshold that separated the airport to the outside world. Dropping his bag at his feet, Riley surveyed the hectic pace of airport traffic for a moment, smiling an indulgent smile at the spectacle of LA life he hadn't witnessed in almost ten years. Picking up his duffel bag, Riley crossed the street, hailing down a cab before making his way back to his old life.

- - -

Alexandra Dugrey drew the heavy quilt tighter around her slim frame. Ever since Riley had stormed out of Janlan's penthouse, she had stayed in that very position through the duration of the day, all through the night, and well into the current day. Even in the warm summer air, a frigid cold front had wormed its way into her body, freezing every open crevice and corner to tepid ice. Her cobalt eyes glistened with tears left unshed, a haunted, guilty light to the blue spheres, shadowed by a potent state of unrest.

This was all her fault. Alex was neither stubborn enough nor proud enough to deny that. She had allowed herself to be duped by the "new" Ian Michaels and pushed away the inkling nagging at her insides that he always wanted more. She had forced herself to believe that all he wanted was friendship, all he would be was just a friend. She had longed so fervently for a reminder of who she used to be – that vivacious, fearless girl – and what she used to know – love would conquer all – and he was the perfect candidate for that nostalgic token of her past . So she allowed herself to relinquish her guard. Look where that got her.

A steady, insistent knock cut into her ponderings of self-perpetuation, and hauling herself from the couch, Alex slowly plodded to the door, her first movements in a day and a half, the simple action leaving her completely exhausted. Laying her head against the cool wood, Alex drew in a deep breath before wrenching the door open. The dull sapphire of her eyes flared with anger as she recognized the face behind the door. Ian Michaels allowed a corner of his mouth to rise in a tight smile.

"Hey."

Drawn between incredulity and antipathy at his blatant impudence, Alex reigned in her temper. "What are you doing here?"

Ian glanced away, releasing a short sigh as he gave a toss of his head. "Look, I just wanted see how you were doing. We never had a chance to talk after…you know, what happened."

"You mean after you kissed me?" Alex retorted, her face set into a blank mask, fighting to hold back the immense rage his presence was eliciting within her.

Ian ran a hand through his mane of dark hair. "I don't regret doing it, Alex." He smirked. "I wanted you to realize what you were holding back. I just wanted you to see what you were missing, what I could give you."

Her features darkening, Alex reacted, the consequent _smack_ resonating heavily in the heady silence as her palm connected sharply with the side of Ian Michael's cheek.

"You have some nerve coming here after what you've done." Alex bit out the sentence from between clenched teeth, her voice lowered to a strident whisper.

Swallowing hard, Ian glanced down, the frustration evident in his hazel eyes as he worked out his jaw to get the sting out. "Okay, I did spring that on you relatively abruptly. I deserved that…"

"You deserve a hell of a lot more!" Alex snarled, her hand clenched tightly into a fist at her side in an effort not to strike out at him again. "Do you realize what you've done to my relationship with Riley?"

At the sound of his rival's name, Ian gave a snort of aversion. "He doesn't deserve your tears," Ian sneered, "Not when he walked away from you."

Alex's head snapped up, "_You're_ the cause of all this, Ian. Because of you, I'm not sure I even have a boyfriend anymore!"

"Yeah, well, I'd label him a stupid moron for letting you go." Ian scoffed, shaking his head at the girl across from him.

"I'd label myself a stupidmoron to have gone with you." Alex countered, her hands set resolutely on her hips. Her head shifting from side to side, Alex cursed herself. "I thought you had changed. Honestly and truly changed."

"I did change!" Ian argued, one finger thrust into his chest for emphasis. "Dammit, you know I did. You saw it happen!"

"You call that changing?" Alex demanded, "Back in high school, you never let a little thing like a boyfriend impede you from chasing after a girl. Looks like that hasn't stopped you now."

"That's different, Alex!" Ian insisted, his hands gesticulating wildly.

"Really? How, Ian?" Alex's expression had taken on an air of faux amusement. "I'm just _dying_ to know." Squaring up to him, Alex already felt her eyes glisten with tears, but she swallowed them down, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry.

"I've never given you any indication whatsoever that I was inclined to that kind of relationship with you, Ian. I've only asked friendship of you, and that's all I expected in return. You were never more than a friend to me, Ian. I had a boyfriend, and I loved only him."

"He doesn't deserve you," Ian protested in anger, a bitter scowl on his face. "He isn't good enough for you. You're worth so much more than a two-bit writer up to his ankles in work he doesn't even know what to do with."

Alex's face clouded over as she bristled. "What gives you the audacity to say that Riley doesn't deserve me? That he isn't good enough for me? You know nothing about him, Ian."

"He's not one of us, Alex." Ian began, trying to reason with Alex's stubborn mind on a subject that, in essence, he possessed not one stitch of knowledge about.

"Oh, so just because he's not one of the Hartford elite, you have the right to say that Riley Beaumont doesn't deserve me?" Alex gave a toss of her head in indignant exasperation, her eyes burning into the hazel spheres across from her. None of this made sense. Ian's arguments were completely unfounded, unrealistic, and completely without merit that only fueled her anger more.

"For your information, Ian, Riley Beaumont has more integrity and honor than you will ever have." Ian backed away as Alex bore down on him, her stare fierce in its intensity.

"You are neither half the man he is nor will you ever come close to the man he is. Instead of following the path his father planned out for him, Riley took a chance and decided to make it on his own. What do you do, Ian? You live off your ten-million dollar trust fund and are completely content jumping when Daddy pulls the string even though you know as well as I do you despise your chosen career."

Alex shook her head, her voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. "Turn around and leave, Ian. I never want you see you ever again, and God help you if we ever cross paths." Turning back, she moved to shut the door.

"Alex, wait." Ian shuffled on the step. "That's it? After all the years we've known each other, you're just going to cut me off for some guy?"

"He's not just 'some guy.'" Alex corrected, her face indifferent to the desperate plea coming from the boy's mouth. Raising her eyes to meet Ian's, she placed every ounce of sincerity into a simple action before she closed the door.

"He's everything."

- - -

Riley leaned back in his seat as the streets of suburban Los Angeles flew by in a slow pan of mid-afternoon traffic. With each second that passed and each sight registered in his mind, Riley could feel remnants of his childhood flash in a collage of memories within his subconscious mind: the park where Chase taught him how to play soccer, the set of stairs he fell down, breaking his arm in the process, the prep school he attended before being shipped off to Amherst.

But as the car shuddered to a halt outside of an elegant two-story mansion, Riley felt the most poignant, the most vivid memories awaken within his psyche. He may have lived with his father in the expansive estate known as Beaumont Manor, but his home was right here in the comfortable lodgings of Chase and Rebecca Beaumont. The saying went "home is where the heart is," and Riley's heart lay with his aunt and uncle.

Paying the driver, Riley hovered at the edge of the circular drive way, plucking up the courage to approach the entrance he hadn't been to in almost a decade. Hitching his duffel bag higher on his shoulder, Riley took a deep breath before making his way up the steps. Hesitantly reaching out a hand, he pressed the small button in the doorway.

A few moments later, the door opened, and the elegant, attractive face of Rebecca Beaumont appeared. At the sight of her nephew, a good seven inches taller than when she had last saw him but the piercing grey eyes unmistakable, Rebecca stifled a surprised gasp. "Riley?"

Forcing a smile onto his face, Riley glanced down into the inquisitive brown eyes of his aunt. Shuffling nervously on the steps, he anxiously shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Hey, Aunt Rebecca."

The expression of absolute surprise didn't fade from his aunt's attractive face as her eyes swept up and down his lofty stature, happy to see him, yet unsure of his intentions for showing up on her doorstep completely out of the blue.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? You swore you'd never come back to California."

Riley dropped his eyes to the welcome mat beneath his sneakers. "Uh, yeah. About that…" Running a hand through his tousled hair, Riley fiddled with the band around his finger, worrying his lip anxiously. "Look, don't feel obligated or anything, but I was hoping I could, uh, crash here for a couple of days. If, you know, you don't have room or it's weird, I can just stay in a hotel or something."

Rebounding from her shock, Rebecca waved a hand. "Of course, it's no problem, Riley. You're always welcome here. I just never expected you to come back. You were pretty adamant about leaving this all behind."

Riley's mouth set in a tight line as he nodded his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I know. Things kind of went to hell back east, and I, uh, needed to…get away."

Rebecca smiled, letting him into the house. "Well, you're lucky you have somewhere to go…"

Before Rebecca could finish the rest of her sentence, a shout floated down from the second story of the house. Riley's head shifted to the source just as a tiny girl, her dark brown curls bouncing in her wake, bounded down the stairs. "Mommy! Mommy! Look!" The little girl twirled, the skirt of her dress billowing out, her pale green eyes alight with her childish excitement. "I finally got the dress on by myself!"

Rebecca's face split into a radiant smile, crouching down to the girl, running a hand through the wavy curls. "That's wonderful, baby!"

Riley's mouth snapped shut from where it had gaped open in shock. Gathering his wits, he gestured to the young child, no more than seven years old who had appeared from the second story. "Okay, I may be hallucinating, but that looks like a kid."

His aunt's eyes narrowed in amusement, her tone wry as she laughed at her nephew. "Perceptive, Riley."

"And if I'm not mistaken, those don't just materialize out of nowhere," Riley interjected, his pale eyes fixated curiously on the child, her own green eyes surveying him with the same amount of interest.

Rebecca straightened, glancing down at her daughter. "Well, when your uncle…passed, a few days after you left, I found that I was twelve weeks along with his child."

Riley's eyes widened as he lay a hand on his aunt's shoulder. "You were pregnant? I had no idea! I would have sent a card or…something…"

Rebecca shook her head, catching the blatant guilt adorning her nephew's face. "I didn't tell too many people. I knew it would be heartbreaking to you, and knowing you as well as I do, I knew you would come straight back." A heavy sigh wracked her attractive frame.

"How old is she?" Riley ventured, fixated on the small girl.

"Seven. Almost eight."

"I missed Seven years of her life…" Riley's tone wasn't accusatory in the slightest, just resigned.

"It was too…early. You needed time to heal and coming back so soon would have made everything so much more difficult." Rebecca snorted, "I _did_ tell your father, but I was under the impression he never made contact with you at school."

Riley matched her snort, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and responding with a toss of his head. "Not once in five years."

Rebecca shook her head in disapproval. "I thought so. I tried to contact you, but your father was adamant about severing all ties with you until you graduated. He said it was so you could 'keep your focus on your rehabilitation'" Rebecca snorted. "As though you needed rehabilitation in the first place. You were just fine with your uncle." Taking a deep breath, she smiled at her nephew, gesturing down at her daughter. "So, Riley, I would like you to meet your cousin, Cassidy Chase Beaumont."

Riley stared down at the girl for a moment before squatting down on his haunches, bringing him down to her level. He had never dealt with a child before, but he managed to make his voice sound gentle. "Hi there."

Cassidy rocked back and forth on her heels, her hands clasped behind her back as she scrutinized the tall man before you. "Hello. I know you."

Riley's brow furrowed in surprise, his eyes diverting up to his aunt. "You do?"

"Yup, yup," Cassidy's head of curls bobbed up and down vigorously. "You're my cousin Riley."

"I told her about you." Rebecca explained, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you don't mind."

Slightly bemused, Riley shook his head. "No. Not at all."

A slight touch to the hand dangling from his thigh captured his attention, and Cassidy's pale jade eyes gazed imploringly across from him. "Mommy showed me pictures of you and she read me your book." Her head tilted slightly to the side, still regarding him closely. "You're much more handsomer than your pictures."

Riley couldn't help but smile at the unassuming compliment. "Well, thank you. I get that a lot." Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you're the most special girl that's ever told me that."

A girlish giggle erupted from Cassidy, the sound beautiful and melodic to Riley's ears, her eyes lighting up in pure and genuine happiness. "You're funny, Riley. How come you've never come to visit us before?"

Riley's face fell slightly, afraid of her reaction. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I had to go to school."

"Oh." Cassidy's face grew serious as she pondered his response. Finding it acceptable, she nodded. "That's okay, Mommy says school is very important."

Riley grinned, her energy infectious. "Well, your mommy is a knows a lot of things, squirt. You should always listen to her."

Again, Cassidy's head fell to the side in an unmistakable tilt. "Squirt?"

Riley nodded. "Yeah. It's what you call other people when they are smaller. Do you mind?"

Cassidy shook her head, her curls swishing around the base of her neck. "No. But only you can call me that."

Riley laughed, absolutely taken by the little girl. "Deal."

With a brilliant smile, Cassidy giggled, throwing her arms around her cousin's neck, squeezing him tightly and kissing him loudly on the cheek. Riley's eyes widened in surprise at the innocent gesture of affection the little girl extended to him within minutes of their acquaintance. Glancing up, he caught his aunt's knowing look as Cassidy let him go, turning to her mother.

"Mommy, may I watch cartoons?"

Running a hand through her daughter's dark curls, Rebecca smiled. "Of course, sweetie."

Beaming widely, Cassidy scampered off to her room, waving at Riley before she left. "Bye, Riley!"

Captivated by the little girl, Riley struggled to tear his eyes away from her. Returning his attention to his aunt, Riley shuffled uncomfortably. "You sure you're okay with me staying here?"

Rebecca's features relaxed into a smile, much to Riley's relief. "Of course. This has always been your home. That will never change."

Riley smiled, receiving the hug offered out to him. Dipping his head down to rest in the crook of the older woman's neck, Riley let out a comforted breath. "Thanks, Aunt Rebecca."

Rebecca's own smile held a glint of fond nostalgia as she held her nephew so grown and matured since the last time she saw him. Gently, her hand passed over his back in a gesture of comfort. "It'll be just like old times…"

- - -

As he heard the sharp slam of the front door and the stifled sounds of his sister's tears, Tristan removed himself from the doorway where he was listening in to the conversation between Alex and Ian, ready to step in when needed. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tristan leaned back against the wall behind him, a deep, troubled sigh wracking through his chest. It was his duty to protect his younger sister, shield her from the atrocities he knew the world around them held. This was twice he failed and both times resulted in a broken heart. He desperately wanted to hate his best friend, hate what he did to his baby sister. But the problem was, he wasn't sure where blame lay, and in some way, he felt as though he was betraying both his friendship with Riley and his relationship with Alex because of it.

Tristan followed the distant sounds of the television before he stopped at the doorway to the entertainment room. Poking his head in, he spotted Rory curled up against the couch, her eyes fixated on the massive plasma television. At the sound of his approach, Rory tore her attention away from the program, a wide smile splitting her lips.

Tristan returned the smile, his hands stuck casually in his pockets. "Hey."

"Hey." Rory reciprocated the salutation, her frame cuddled up in the corner of the couch.

Tristan gestured vaguely to her position in the middle of the room. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Rory shook her head. "No. Of course not."

As Tristan plopped down beside her, Rory shifted, sliding her head into the crook of his arm, snuggling up to his side. Instinctively, Tristan wound his arm around her back, his hand finding hers. It seemed so natural to them, almost as though the intimate position wasn't a sign of the change in their relationship.

Rory tilted her head back, her inquisitive gaze seeking the navy spheres of her companion. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or would a round of twenty questions kind of thing be better?"

A corner of Tristan's mouth curled upwards in a rueful smile that didn't transcend to his eyes. Rory watched as a heavy sigh rumbled through his chest and throat, the warm breath spewing from his lips. "Aw…It's just Alex."

Rory nodded her comprehension against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. "Big brother inclinations sneaking up on you?"

"Yep," Tristan grunted his assessment, an adorably disgruntled sheen to his handsome features. Gesticulating out to the empty air, he waved wildly with the hand that wasn't snaked around Rory. "You see, this is the sort of thing that should be anticipated. Best friends are free to date whomever they wish: those of questionable values, criminals, anyone. But things like this is why any rational man draws the line at siblings."

Tristan ran a peeved hand through his hair, the strident volume of his voice emphasizing his point. "Because when something like this happens…"

"You're stuck in between," Rory finished, torn between amusement and sympathy.

"Uh-huh," Tristan sighed a deep, labored exhale. Shaking his head, his shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "I know Beau. And I know Lexi. And I know both of them. They would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship. They love each other too much to let something like this happen. I can see it. Anyone can. They're so sentimental and couple-y together that it's almost sick. This thing between them is just…weird."

Rory sobered, her agreement to his claim evident. "Which leaves you and the rest of us wondering…"

"What the hell just happened?" Tristan asserted, his eyes drifting down to meet hers.

Rory huffed out a snort. "If a couple like Riley and Alex can't make it, I really hate the odds for the more dysfunctional." she mused.

"Makes one ask if the rest of us have a chance in hell." Tristan agreed.

Rory sighed, her cheek caressing the fabric of his sweatshirt, reveling in the warmth of his embrace. "When did it get so complicated?"

"What?" Tristan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Rory's answer was simple. "Life."

"Are you getting all angsty on me, Mar?"

"No…" At his reproving look, Rory rolled her eyes amending her statement. "Yes." Shrugging unapologetically, Rory gazed up into his laughing eyes. "I'm in a weird place right now, Tris. Humor me."

Tristan chuckled, obliging in her request. "When the world stopped revolving around Polly Pocket and Power Rangers and started becoming all about grades, friends, identity, and the will to belong."

"Wow. That was profound," Rory chided, gently prodding him in the side.

Tristan shrugged, batting away her hand. "Doesn't mean it isn't true…"

Rory pondered his words, ringing true in her own dilemma. She was not proud enough to deny that she hated this feeling she had felt since the separation with her mother. It was a feeling of almost empty desperation. A desperation to find herself again; a desperation that had her questioning everything she had once thought was simple, genuine fact. It was that desperation that drove her to the brink of her sanity; it was the desperation that allowed her to cast away a life she had such confidence in.

Rory sighed, all those thoughts swirling in a whirlpool of indiscernible emotion. Slowly, she let the tip of her nose ghost across the smooth column of Tristan's neck. "God, I hope we survive."

Tristan pressed a reassuring kiss against her temple. "Aw, I think we will."

Rory smiled at the conviction in his voice. "Yeah? How?"

"We find a compass and a map and follow it the best we can," Tristan answered confidently.

"You're so cute when you get all philosophical." Grinning beatifically, Rory slid across the couch cushions, perching herself sideways across Tristan's lap. Automatically, his arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her against him. Rory dipped her head down, nudging his lips with her own before letting her tongue snake out, caressing the soft lobe of his ear before suckling lightly. Dragging a feather light path to his lips, Rory caught the stormy indigo glint of his eyes as he stared at her through lowered lashes before catching his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging on it gently. With an impatient growl, Tristan shifted his weight, pinning her down into the couch cushions. Caught by surprise, Rory offered little resistance as she found herself staring up at him. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, Rory mock glared up at his navy eyes twinkling with mischief, his mouth curled into a smirk.

Leaning down, Tristan bumped the tip of her nose with his, his breath hot on her lips. "Careful, Gilmore. Those lips are deadly weapons."

Rory shivered at the husky tone of his voice, heavy with desire. Craning her head back, she shifted against his weight. Cocking her head, she unconsciously wet her lips, mustering up enough will to restrain her hormones and banter back. "Hm…assault by a deadly weapon. Imagine explaining that to the authorities."

Tristan grinned, flopping over so they lay side by side. "But what a way to go…"

Giggling with a lightness she hadn't felt in a while, Rory grabbed at the sweatshirt covering his torso, yanking him down to her. She felt the chest beneath her fingertips tremble with laughter as he obliged her unvoiced request. As his lips moved with tantalizing precision against hers, a sigh of contentment floated through her. Tristan's kisses were just as heavenly as she remembered: slow, passionate, and utterly intoxicating. All of this felt so natural and right, so completely and absolutely right, and she wasn't quite sure why that scared the hell out of her.

- - -

Riley hefted his duffel bag higher over his shoulder, adjusting the messenger bag across his back. Making his way through the halls, Riley swiveled his head, taking in his surroundings. There were subtle changes within the décor, but the general warmth and homey feeling still stayed the same. As Riley meandered down the hallway towards the guest house, Riley stopped before a small room. Wandering in, Riley found himself struck with a wave of potent nostalgia as he found himself in Chase's trophy room, various paraphernalia displaying Chase's cinematic prowess decorating the walls and shelves. Posters adorned every inch of the wall highlighted Chase's name accompanied by pictures of Chase with the stars, with Riley even featured in a few. Riley let his feet take him around the room, taking in all of Chase's awards and recalling the memories that came along with every piece of memorabilia in the room. Riley stopped before one final picture, one of him and Chase, the latter holding two Oscar statuettes for Best Picture and Best Director as Riley waved from atop Chase's shoulders looking quite dapper in a miniaturized version of his uncle's tuxedo. Leaning in, he let his fingertips graze the glass, skating down the smooth surface over their faces, frozen in time, capturing a moment of complete and absolute bliss. As the single tear slid the long, painful path down his cheek, Riley swallowed the rest back down, wiping his eyes and continuing onto his destination.

When he was younger, Riley spent so much time at the other Beaumont twin's house that Chase and Rebecca had just stopped making the guest room up and allowed him use of the guest house situated in the back part of the mansion past the pool. Looking around, he found his room exactly the way he had left it so long ago. The maids had kept everything pretty much spotless during the nine years of his absence. Rifling through drawers, he extracted clothing he had long since grown out of – painfully illustrating his complete ignorance in fashion during his emo stage – decade-old magazines that reflected the trends of the time, and digging really deep into the recesses, Riley found his old lock-pick set. They were all memoirs, snippets of a life he used to lead and a life that had its quandaries, yet one glaring advantage. Sighing deeply, he flopped backward on the bed, lying out spread eagle across the soft cushions. Allowing his head to loll to the side, Riley allowed his eyes to scan across the room, the posters on his walls, the guitars propped up in the corners as spotless as the days he bought them. His gaze drifted towards his closet as a flash of color caught his eye, and Riley bolted up with excitement. Yanking open the door, Riley grinned as a seven foot-long piece of heavenly goodness carved out of fiberglass and polymer spilled into his hands. Quickly changing, Riley grabbed his keys, hollering to his aunt his destination.

- - -

Declan Finnegan could honestly say that the rogue in him was a sucker vulnerable, unwitting girls just ripe for a pranking of sorts. He found amusement in the shrill emotions of girls and thought that a woman who could withstand a prank with the right amount of humor and irritation was his version of an Aphrodite. Call it his version of foreplay. Hovering over Paris' form swathed in blankets, Finn glanced dubiously at the feather in his hand then back at the rosy tip of nose peeking out from the hem, weighing his options. As the scales tipped overwhelmingly in one direction, Fin let the small feather descend down towards Paris' partly exposed nose. Stealthily and unbeknownst to Finn, Paris' hand shot out, grabbing his collar and yanking him down towards her. Completely caught unawares, Finn could only acquiesce to the strong pull, his face now wavering inches above Paris. Without opening her eyes, Paris' head emerged from the depths of the blankets, her mouth curved in a dry smile as she lethargically shook her head back and forth.

"Finnegan, I am tired and I am cranky. Do. Not. Mess With. Me."

"How did you know I was?" Finn could only venture weakly as his back ached from the awkward position.

"I've heard stories." Came Paris' blunt reply.

One eyebrow shot skyward. "And you believed them?"

"Of course." Paris retorted. "It was your distinct brand of mischief."

"Which is?"

Paris let a small grin quirk the side of her face. "Harmless, ingenious, clever, and utterly amusing."

"I'm flattered, love."

"Uh-huh." Paris shifted in the confines of her blanketed cocoon, her eyes drifting open. "So are you going to state your purpose or leave and let me sleep in peace?"

Finn propped his chin on one fist, his exotic features twisting into a look of pure innocence. "Actually, I was hoping you were open for some company."

"If you are going to insert some sordid joke about wearing me out enough for an easy sleep, this arrangement we have will come to an abrupt end." Paris grunted in warning.

Finn cast a charming smile in her direction. "No, just venturing for some innocent cuddling."

Paris treated him with a pointed stare. "Are you serious?"

Finn looked affronted. "Why wouldn't I be?" As Paris gave him a reproving look, the Aussie acquiesced, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, point taken. Why? Do you snore or something?"

"Don't you think this is a bit intimate for only about a few days of dating?" Paris asked, drawing the blankets tighter around her frame.

Finn shrugged in reply. "Not really. It's like a horizontal hug. If vertical hugs are completely platonic, I don't believe a double-standard should be set for horizontal ones."

Rolling her eyes at his ridiculous, if not slightly logical reasoning, Paris surveyed him with a careful eye. "If I say yes, will you stop talking and let me sleep?"

Finn nodded his compliance with a jaunty bob of his head. "Of course, love. Think of me as a…warm, irresistible, utterly handsome teddy bear."

"Teddy bears don't speak and are inanimate." Paris grumbled.

"I can do that." Finn insisted.

With a huffed sigh, Paris opened the blankets, a slightly disgruntled look on her face. "Climb in."

"Right-o."

"And shut up."

"As you wish."

As Finn slid into the covers, Paris rolled over so they were facing one another. With a small smile, Finn opened his arms, the gesture evident in its meaning. Tentatively, Paris scooted closer into the circle of his arms, relaxing as they enveloped her in their embrace. She willed herself to stay composed as Finn's lips brushed a pillow-soft kiss against her forehead. Laying her head against his chest, Paris listened to the steady heartbeat beneath her ear, the steady sound lulling her into a blissful rest.

- - -

Riley stared out into the vast oceanic abyss. The towering waves crashed amongst the golden sands of the shore, sending sprays of salty liquid quivering against the brisk afternoon air. Slowly, an indulgent smile spread across his handsome face as he gazed out into the chasm of liquid perfection. He cradled his surfboard at his side, the new wetsuit covering his body as his eyes scanned over the sight he hadn't seen in so long and had missed with almost the same amount of vigor he had his aunt and uncle.

A wide, languorous smile spread across his face as he sprinted out towards the great Pacific void. Landing belly down on his board, Riley worked his arms and legs, paddling out towards the waters. As a humongous wave swept toward him, Riley rotated towards the shore the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and stabilizing himself on his board, he coasted down the crest of the wave, carving a languid path across the crystal waters, the misty spray cleansing his face, washing away whatever quandary was haunting him at the moment. Weaving in and out through the flawless surf, Riley drifted to a stop amongst water.

The sun was beginning to set as Riley hauled himself up to straddle his board, shifting to face the languidly descending sphere of fire as the clear waters of the Pacific enveloped it into its embrace for the night. Bobbing up and down against the lightly moving waves, Riley ran a hand through his damp hair, his breaths coming in light, steady puffs. The ocean had brought a potent calm across his body amidst the torrent of emotions crashing against the walls of his body and the depths of his soul. As he drifted along the waters, Riley scoffed to himself at his instant of unconscious, angst-ridden poetry, and he cursed his moment of vulnerable weakness and over-romanticizing. Yes, he was a writer, but he wished to save the sap and sentiments for his novels.

As he exited the now calm waves, Riley hovered by the trunk of his borrowed SUV, toweling himself off. Caught in his thoughts, he almost missed the deep voice addressing him from behind.

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day when I wouldn't be arresting Riley Beaumont upon seeing him."

At the slow, southern drawl, Riley's mouth split into a grin as he turned to face the one man who always seemed to corner him at his most mischievous. "Officer Donahue."

Riley grasped the offering of the weathered policeman as Donahue looked him up and down. "So I hear you're doing pretty well for yourself." Riley shrugged his compliance as Donahue grinned, cocking his head. "Quite a jump from the kid I had to haul in so many times."

Riley glanced down at the blank cement of the pavement beneath his feet. "I guess I just needed a kick in the pants."

Donahue nodded. "Guess you did." His expression grew somber as the policeman shook his head morosely. "Can't say the same for your crew, though."

Riley's brow furrowed in confusion. "My crew?"

"Yeah. Those little rich shits you always hung out with."

"Why?" Riley gazed at the familiar craggy face that always found humor in his delinquency. "What happened to them?"

Donahue sighed, hitching his thumbs in the belt housing all of his equipment. "About half of them went through the system a few times. Some actually got their act together, but your buddy Coughlin's been in and out since you left.'

"Bugs?"

Donahue nodded. "Yeah. Hauled him in for breaking and entering a few days ago."

At the information, Riley shook his head, remembering the eldest boy in their motley crew of lawbreakers, trying to appease the image of him as a hardened criminal. "Wow. Crazy."

"You're telling me," Donahue snorted. He raised his head, the cool blue eyes boring into Riley's. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, kid. Seems to be working pretty well."

"I will," Riley answered nodding his head as he shook Donahue's hand. "Thanks, Officer Donahue."

A small smile curved the mouth of the seasoned cop. "I'll see you around Beaumont."

Riley watched as the squad car pulled away without him in the backseat. So much had changed while he was gone. He had changed. California used to be his home. It still was his home. But everything was different. He was different.

- - -

Awaken from his deep, comfortable slumber Finn rolled over, a languorous, wracking groan escaping through his lungs as a product of sleep. As his arm flopped over, expecting to meet a warm bundle of blanket-laden Paris, he was surprised to find cold, empty sheets. Raising a sleep-burdened head, Finn gazed at the tastefully decorated room that was absent of his…erm, well, he wasn't quite sure what to label himself and Paris, but the fact that he could use the term 'us' in reference to the relationship they shared seemed to suffice just fine to him. Extracting himself from the mound of sheets, Finn ran a hand through his tousled hair before padding over through the penthouse. As he made his way to the living room, he wasn't too surprised to see Paris amidst a mound of paper in a vision that was similar to a few days ago when Riley occupied the same couch. Vaulting over the back of the couch, Finn plopped himself down beside Paris, upending a small stack of files beside her.

"What are you doing?"

At his exuberant entrance, Paris jumped, whirling to face him, her sharp brown eyes piercing into his. "Finn! You scared the crap out of me!"

A low, amused chuckle wracked through his chest as he reclined against the couch, his arms splayed against the back. "Ah. That doesn't seem like it happens often."

"I'd like to think of myself as one with acute senses," Paris answered in complete seriousness.

Finn smirked in a way Paris wasn't sure whether to classify as infuriating or adorable. "How's that working for you?"

"Quite well, thank you."

"You're welcome." Finn cocked his head at the busy blonde. "So, I ask again, what are you doing?"

Paris meticulously flipped through a stack of papers she had extracted from her many heaps. "Well, as of now, the new school year begins in scant months. As the new editor of the _Yale Daily News_, I have to be prepared to cover the most breaking news the moment we return to campus. I intend to start as soon as possible. The student body needs to be informed on what is going on at school."

Finn couldn't help but smile at such a characteristic Paris response. Unabashedly laughing at her expense, Finn shook his head. "Paris, I hardly think anything is going to happen five minutes after the semester begins."

"On the contrary, Declan, last year alone, two students fainted from stress and three received parking tickets within the first ten minutes of the first morning class, and that was just on the west end of campus." Came the blithe reply as Paris turned her gaze to him, completely unamused.

Finn's face contorted into a look of mock gravity. "Hm. Stress? Parking tickets? I smell conspiracy. Perhaps you should be reporting _that_." Try as he might, he couldn't keep the playful tone out of his voice.

Paris' eyes narrowed at his teasing jibe. "Laugh all you want, Finnegan, but any news may be pertinent to the student body. Besides, the commencement issue is going to be a double, which means we need twice as much content," Paris argued, her voice earnestly persuasive.

Finn lofted his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not arguing you, love. But you still have a good few months. Come on." Plucking the files she held from her grasp, Finn tossed them onto the table amidst the neatly separated piles.

"Finn! Those were arranged chronologically! You might have seriously confounded the order of those files!"

Grabbing her hand, Finn hauled her up from her place on the couch. "Actually, kitten, it's not difficult to quash that predicament. The missing batch is the batch I tossed onto the table. Now let's go." Shoving his arms into a jacket, Finn snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door before helping Paris into a jacket of her own.

"Where are we going?"

Finn shrugged. "Don't know."

"What the hell do you mean you don't know?"

"See this?" Finn gestured between them. "It's called spontaneity. I know it's a foreign concept, but it works wonders for that fickle thing that supposedly adds years to your life."

"What, liposuction?" Paris retorted.

Finn laughed. "No. Fun."

Paris looked nonplussed. "Fun."

"Yep, fun." Tugging on her hand, Finn led her to the door. "C'mon, Gellar, let's have some _fun_."

- - -

Riley wandered through the halls of the spacious house in a search for his aunt. As he passed a room near the end of the hall, the door ajar, Riley heard the voice of his cousin pipe up from the depths of the bedroom.

"Riley?"

Poking his head through her doorway, Riley gazed down at the small girl bundled up amidst a mountain of blankets and pillows, her small frame practically engulfed by them all. "Yeah, squirt?"

Her hands folded primly atop the comforter, Cassidy regarded him with her wide jade eyes. "Can you tell me a bedtime story?"

Unable to deny her request, Riley smiled. "Sure." Dragging a chair up to the bedside, Riley leaned forward. "What story to you want me to read to you? Cinderella? Beauty and the Beast? Pinocchio?"

Cassidy shook her head. "Mommy says that you're better at telling your own stories. She says that's why everybody knows who you are. Can you tell me a story about my daddy? She says that you're the person who knew him the bestest after her."

Riley laughed, playfully chucking the young girl's chin. "Well, your mommy's a smart cookie."

Cassidy giggled, a lively, lilting sound. "You're silly, Riley."

Riley could only smile at the child. "So, how about that story?"

Cassidy nodded, snuggling down into the covers. "Yes, please."

Riley braced his elbows on his knees, gazing at the girl that looked so much like his uncle. "Well, squirt, your daddy was the best friend I ever had. He was the only person who thought that I could do whatever I want. See, my daddy wasn't like yours, even though they were brothers. My daddy didn't think I was a good person, but your daddy always saved me from being like him."

"Like how Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable save the world from bad guys?" Cassidy asked.

Riley nodded. "Yeah, kiddo, just like Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable. Your daddy was able to help me become a good person. He told me that I could do anything, that I could be anything, and I know that if your daddy was still alive, he would tell you the same thing, too."

Riley paused as a poignant memory washed into his consciousness, one of his favorites of Chase. "This one time, before he died, your daddy took me out to hang out with him. We were walking down the boardwalk when this old man came up to us. He asked your daddy if he could have a few dollars for food."

"Why did he have to ask Daddy?"

"Because he couldn't afford food for himself," Riley answered. "Well, your daddy said, 'You know what, I'll do you one better,' and took the man out for lunch with us. The man spun this wild fairy tale that couldn't have possibly come true, but your daddy stayed throughout the whole time. When the man was finished, your daddy fished five dollars out of his pocket and gave it to the man. He said to keep the money for the next time he needed food. When I asked him why he did that, you daddy answered, 'Riley, when someone smiles at you, always smile back. When someone offers his hand, always take it, even when you don't need it. When you see someone struggle, offer them help.'" Riley smiled. "Your daddy told me to never forget address people as 'sir' or 'ma'am' and to always say 'please' and 'thank you,' and to always be kind."

Riley tilted his head down to the young girl. "Know why?"

Cassidy's deep brown curls wavered as she shook her head back and forth, her eyes wide at the story. "No, why?"

"Because your daddy told me that every person is fighting their own great battle and at times, it's nice to know that someone's there to help even if they are a stranger."

A slight confusion crossed Cassidy's face. "What does that mean, Riley?"

"It means, squirt, that kindness is sometimes the best gift you can give to a complete stranger. So be kind to everyone."

Cassidy stayed silent for a moment, processing his message before nodding her head in comprehension. "I like that, Riley." The young girl seemed to continue thinking as she turned her brilliant jade eyes to her elder cousin. "Riley?"

"Yeah?"

Cassidy straightened among the mound of blankets, glancing down at his large hand sandwiched between her tiny ones, fiddling with the platinum band encircling his ring finger. "Mommy says that even though Daddy's dead, he's in a better place and he's watching over us and protecting us. Is that true?"

Riley nodded. "That's right, squirt." Hesitating in his response, he posed a question to the young girl. "Do you believe in God?"

"Uh-huh. That's who made us."

"Well, God was so happy with your daddy when He made him that God decided he was too good for this earth. So He sent your daddy up to live with Him."

Cassidy's eyes grew large at his explanation. "Is that what happens when people die?"

Riley nodded. "Yeah. But only the good people."

Cassidy pondered his answer, her bottom lip protruding slightly as she comprehended Riley's words seriously. "Okay. That sounds nice. I want to go there someday. I still miss Daddy, though."

Riley sighed, shrugging his compliance. "Me, too, kiddo. Me, too. But your daddy always loves us. He never stopped. He's always in here." Riley tapped a finger over her heart before flicking lightly at her button nose. "Don't ever forget."

Cassidy giggled her infectious laugh, batting his hand away playfully. "I won't. Can I ask you something, Riley?"  
"Sure."

"Why do people die?"

Riley paused. He knew that she had meant the question to be simple, far from the complexity an adult would find it. Contemplating his answer, Riley tried to make it as simple as he could. Finally, he replied. "So we can see how important life is."

Cassidy only stared at him, smiling at the intelligence of her cousin. "Goodnight, Riley. That was a great story."

Riley grinned, running one hand through her hair. "Thanks, squirt. Goodnight." Making his way to the door, Riley turned when he heard Cassidy's voice.

"Riley?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you come and see us more often?"

"Sure, kiddo."

Cassidy held out a hand, her pinky extended in offering. "Promise?"

Grasping the pinky with his own, Riley nodded. 'Promise."

"Riley?" Again, Cassidy called him back.

"Yeah, squirt?"

"I love you."

Those three words, so simple, yet so complex at the same time threw him for a loop, and it took him a while before he could respond. Finally he smiled, just a simple quirk of his lips. "I love you, too, Cassidy."

Slightly dazed, Riley wandered to find his aunt gazing up at him imploringly from across the hall.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

Riley cocked his head in slight confusion. "What is?"

Rebecca smiled hitching her head in the direction of her daughter's closed door. "How rational-minded people scoff and disregard love-at-first-sight until they experience something like that."

A corner of his mouth quirked upward as he dipped his head down in realization. "Yeah." Returning his eyes back to the closed door, Riley shook his head. "She looks so much like him. Except for the eyes. She has your eyes."

Said eyes misted over as a wave of nostalgia swept over the pair, and when Rebecca spoke again, her voice had a slight catch. "She's my miracle. I thought I was going to be so…alone after Chase died. Then Cassidy came along. She gave me a purpose in life as well as a bittersweet reminder."

"She's got the best of both your personalities. She's gonna be quite the terror when she gets older. No one's gonna be able to resist her with eyes like those and that smile." Riley shoved his hands in his pockets. "And she's already got me with that head tilt…"

Rebecca nodded her agreement. "She's beautiful. She's gonna need a father. I hope one day, I'm going to be able to move on." Rebecca searched her nephew's eyes, gauging his reaction to her comment. "Chase would understand, right? He would want me to."

Riley smiled. "Aunt Rebecca, of course he would. You know Uncle Chase would want you to be happy. So if moving on gives you happiness or if keeping it just the two of you makes you happy, then I know he'd be okay with whatever you choose. I know I would."

Rebecca cupped Riley's face in one hand, affectionately pinching his cheek. "You, my nephew, are so much more like him than you realize. I have no idea how you came about that way with the father you have."

"My father is my father only in blood," Riley answered firmly. "You and I know who my real father is."

Rebecca paused before continuing. "Have you…?"

Resolutely, Riley shook his head, responding to her unvoiced query. "No."

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow reprovingly. "You're avoiding it."

Riley's voice lowered to a petulant mutter. "So?

"You have to Riley. It may hurt like hell, but you know you have to."

"Why?"

Rebecca smirked at the childish whine erupting from her immensely mature nephew. "It's the only way you'll find closure."

His bottom lip protruding in a ridiculous pout, Riley lowered his gaze, one sneaker scuffing the ground. "I really do hate it when you're right."

Rebecca shrugged. "I'm a mother. It's my job…"

- - -

Tristan stuck his head in where his sister was still curled up on the couch. Cautiously, he approached her prone form.

"Hey, munchkin."

"I know you were listening." At the confusion in Tristan's eyes, Alex sighed, gesturing vaguely. "When Ian came by. I know you were right around the corner."

Tristan smiled as he plopped down beside his sister. "I wasn't aware I made any noise."

"You didn't." Alex admitted. "I just knew you were there." She shrugged, gazing at her brother before nudging him with a shoulder. "You always are."

"Except when you needed me the most," Tristan mused despondently.

Alex's brow furrowed. "You still blame yourself for then?"

Tristan's eyes plummeted where he twisted his hands in his lap. "I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to protect you."

"And you're also supposed to live your own life, too." Alex insisted, rotating to face him fully.

"I should have been there for you," Tristan persisted.

"You were," Alex assured him. "Just not _right_ there." Sighing, she lay a hand on her brother's shoulder, willing him to concede to her logic.

"I don't blame you for not being there, Tris. There was nothing you could do. I was the one who fell for him. I let it happen. I paid the consequences. That's what happens. You know that as well as I do."

"You shouldn't have to," Tristan ventured morosely.

Alex smiled. "Maybe not. I was just lucky I had Pop and Riley to help me."

Tristan hesitated, unsure of how to proceed before carrying on with his question. "What happened with you and Riley, Lexi?"

This time, it was Alex's turn to pause. "You know when I said that I let things happen?"

A slow nod bobbed Alex's head up and down. "Yeah."

"I paid the consequence. Turns out Riley was my consequence."

"So _he_ didn't do it?" Tristan clarified.

"No. I did." Alex wiped a stray tear from her face. "The worst part was he had to witness it. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. I was just so blind." The frustration was evident in her soft voice as the remnants of the day's events crashed into her psyche.

Tristan shrugged. "You're human."

"No," Alex corrected, "I'm stupid." Angrily pounding the pillow that lay in her lap, Alex irately shoved her hair out of her eyes. "I should have seen Ian's motives. Then none of this would have happened." Taking a deep shuddering breath, she appealed Tristan. "I could really use some big brother advice right now."

Tristan contemplated the best way to issue said advice. Grasping Alex's hand, he shifted so that they were face to face, mirroring the gravity of the situation. "Do you love him?"

Vehemently, Alex nodded. "More than anything."

"Does he make you happy?"

An indulgent smile curled a corner of Alex's mouth. "More than I ever thought possible."

"Are you willing to completely throw away your pride and beg for his forgiveness?"

One eyebrow shot upward in reply. "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Since when has love ever straddled the median?" Tristan reasoned. "People go great lengths for it. Answer the question."

Alex didn't waver. "Yeah, I would."

"So fight for him," Tristan answered as though the solution was that simple. "I've never seen you like the way you are with Riley. You know if this is worth fighting for, and if it is, what are you doing staying here?"

Alex digested his words for a moment before flinging her arms around his neck, kissing her brother on the cheek. Tristan grinned, pressing kiss to her hair.

"I'll call Pop. God knows he's faster than any airline."

- - -

Finn gazed down at his companion, a grin lifting a side of his mouth. "Having fun, Gellar?"

Paris shrugged in response, unable to keep her own smile from blooming onto her normally stern features. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"That's good." Finn hesitated in continuing with the question hovering at the tip of his tongue. Gathering his courage, he ventured forward. "So what are we?"

Amused, Paris cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't the girl supposed to be the one asking that kind of question?"

Finn shrugged. "Theoretically."

"But you don't do theoretically," Paris finished, a small smile playing at her lips.

Finn nodded. "Indeed."

Carefully pondering his question, Paris shook her head. "I don't know. We haven't been on an actual date."

Finn whirled to face her, one finger extended in anticipation towards the contrary. "Actually, kitten, I beg to differ. We've had three."

Paris stared at him dubiously. "We have." It wasn't a question. Cocking an eyebrow, her eyes sparkled with interest as her gaze fixated imploringly on his. "And I suppose your amazing superpowers that you have deceptively hidden from the world just managed to erase them from my memory?"

Finn chuckled as he spread his arms wide, embracing the atmosphere around him. "Think about it, Gellar. What was the first thing we did when arrived in New York?"

"The theatre," Paris answered.

"Which qualifies as a date," Finn declared. "A rather high-end date to start with, in my opinion, which, might I add, sets the bar impossibly high for future outings."

Finn ticked his next point on a second finger. "Next, we went to lunch together the day we made this…'arrangement,' as you have an affinity to referring to us."

"That wasn't a date," Paris argued.

"It is for the sake of argument," Finn rejoined. At her expression, he sighed. "And, again, I beg to differ. Did I ask you to aforementioned outing?"

"Yes."

"And did I hold doors open and pull out your chair while generally acting in a gentlemanly manner?" He lofted his eyebrows, challenging her to deviate.

Paris' gaze narrowed. "Yes."

"And did I pay?"

Paris rolled her eyes, sighing resignedly. "Yes."

"And in the Declan Rochester Finnegan, III criteria for dates, I would say that also qualifies," Finn declared triumphantly.

"I wouldn't define that criteria as completely credible, Finn. You admit yourself you've never had a semblance of a relationship."

A dramatic exhale huffed through Finn's chest. "You wound me deep, Gellar." He waved away her assertion. "Minor detail. Well, according to my Yale-educated calculations, we've been on three dates."

"Three?"

Finn gestured between them. "Doesn't this count?"

"This is walking, Finn."

Finn held up their joined hands. "And holding hands. This is actually what some people would classify as a date, you know."

"Well, in the theory of all credible and plausible experts that aren't you, Declan Finnegan, III, this would also be the date where we have sex," Paris remarked in a deadpan.

Finn's eyebrows waggled flirtatiously. "Are you offering? Oy!" As her fist came sharply into contact with his bicep, Finn recoiled, rubbing the abused spot. "What? That's a legitimate question! I merely thought you were attempting a sly segue way to that inevitable question."

"Which question?"

Finn's grin was practically feral in its mischief. "Your place or mine?"

"You do realize that question doesn't work in our situation, do you?"

Finn chuckled. "Actually, love, it narrows the query down in a much more simple fashion than you realize."

"I suspect you aren't going to withhold your ingenious revelation," Paris commented.

"Right in one, Gellar."

"And it is?"

"Your bed or mine?" Finn danced out of the way of Paris' swinging fists, an air of triumph surrounding him. "So, I will reiterate out train of conversation: according to my Yale-educated calculations, we've been on three dates. I think by now we should try to label us rather than using the term 'arrangement.'"

Paris jabbed one finger into his chest. "I don't do casual dating, Finn."

"So is this your backwards way of saying you wish us to be exclusive," Finn ventured, a languid smirk creeping across his features.

Paris nodded, a pink flush staining her cheeks.

A slow, joyous grin spread across Finn's face. "Well, love, that is an offer that I am not dense enough to decline." He paused, head tilted in contemplation. "I've never done this sort of thing before. What's the protocol?"

Paris answered his query, slipping her arms around his neck to draw him down into a passionate kiss. Breaking away, she sighed. "God, you're my _boyfriend_." As the word passed through her lips, Paris shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that sounds really juvenile."

Finn smirked, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. "Well, Gellar, there's no one I'd rather be juvenile with than you."

- - -

Riley sat in his car, running his hands over the slick grip of the steering wheel as he gathered his courage. Three days. He had been in California for three days and had yet to visit this place. He had never been to this particular spot, the pain and agony still too overwhelming. But he felt that these particular circumstances called for comfort that only one person could provide, even as his body had long since left the living Earth. Taking a deep breath of resignation, Riley unlocked the door, climbing out of the car.

Gently easing the iron-wrought gate protecting the sacred grounds open, Riley trod on the lush, green grass, making his way to the plot where a lavish, ornate tombstone sat prominently among its more modest counterparts. Stooping down slightly, Riley traced the engraved letters with gentle care and affection, his face set as hard as the tombstone's marble.

**Chase Matthew Beaumont**

1960 – 1996

_Loving Brother, Husband, and Friend_

_May You Walk with Angels Among the Clouds_

Despite the warm California breeze, Riley drew his jacket tighter across his lean frame. He could feel the tears of sorrow bubble up beneath his surface after being stifled down for so long. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Riley smiled sadly down at his uncle's tombstone.

"Hey, Uncle Chase. It's me, Riley. I know it's been awhile, but I'm sure you understand. A lot's happened since you…" Riley paused, still unable to say the word. He cleared his throat and continued, "you know. Man, even after all these years, it still hurts. Dad sent me off to military school after he found out I parked a Beamer on top of the Burger Boy on Fifth and Elm. You loved that Burger Boy. Every Wednesday when you would pick me up from school, we went there to eat. We would always order the same thing: the Burger Boy Special with a chocolate shake." Riley smiled, forcing the tears back down. "Anyway, Dad wasn't too happy. He sent me away to North Carolina for a military education."

Riley shared a laugh with the tombstone, knowing his uncle would have found that predicament hilarious. "Can you imagine that, Uncle Chase? Me in military school? I know you would have gotten a kick outta that. Well, it did me good. I met my best friend there, Tristan Dugrey. Man, that's one character. He's been trying to win the heart of this one girl since sophomore year of high school. He's almost there, too. Of course, much of it is definitely my doing, but he likes to think it's all attributed to his irresistible charm. As much as he staunchly denies the contrary, he's a hopeless romantic. Just like you were. Grand gestures and everything. You would have loved him."

Riley glanced down, sniffing back his tears, resolute not to cry as he scuffed a shoe against the grass. "I straightened up over there, Uncle Chase. I did what you told me. I made something of myself. I released all that intelligence and creativity that you swore I had. I made myself into the highest-ranking cadet in my class, and I graduated as salutatorian, right behind Tristan. I even got accepted into a bunch of Ivy Leagues. I chose Yale, though. Sorry, Uncle Chase, but USC just didn't cut it for me. Way too close to home. Nothing personal." Riley grinned as he remembered his Uncle's devoted pride to his alma mater.

"I wrote a book, too. It's about military school. Topped the best-seller list for eighteen weeks. I dedicated the book to you, Uncle Chase. Used your name as part of my pseudonym, too. Hope you don't mind."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Riley glanced away, out into the sun that permeated the clear afternoon sky. His hand came up to idly twist the platinum band gracing his right ring finger, his last souvenir from the man who cared the most. "Uncle Chase, do you remember what happened when I said that I loved that actress from one of your movies? I was ten. You laughed, pulled me into your lap, stroked my hair, and told me, 'Riley, what you're feeling isn't love, son. That right there is good, old-fashioned lust. And trust me, boy, I can't blame you.' You told me that when I do find a girl that I really and truly loved, when I find a girl that I could see myself spending the rest of eternity with, to grab onto her and hold on for dear life. You told me to never let her go." Riley sighed, finally allowing the tears to burst forth, heavy with longing and loss.

"Well, I think I found her, Uncle Chase. The thing is, I don't think I held on tight enough. She cheated on me." Riley's pale eyes stared helplessly at the blank tombstone, wishing now, more than ever, that his beloved uncle and mentor was alive to help and guide him.

"I don't know what to do, Uncle Chase. You didn't exactly cover this in your obligatory sex and relationship talk. Not even the Cliffs Notes. I'm torn here, Uncle Chase. My pride says dump her, walk away, and don't look back but my heart won't let me." Riley dropped to his knees, his arms wrapped around himself like a little boy, lost and confused. "The thing is, I love her. So desperately. But she hurt me. Real bad. What do I do? Do I throw away my pride, my dignity, and take her back? Do I walk away? Risk losing what could possibly be everything? Can love fix this?"

Riley inhaled a long, shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure. The tears flowed freely now, hot and incessant, running rivers down his cheeks. "I just…I just don't know. I want to hate her, Uncle Chase. I want her to hurt as much as I am right now. I want to be able to curse her name to the heavens, scream obscenities towards her, dispel her like she meant nothing." Riley hung his head, burying his face in his hands, his chest heaving with his heavy sobs. When he finally looked up, his eyes were as helpless as they had ever been.

"But I can't find it in myself to do it. I can't bring myself to do it. I can't find it in my heart to hate her, Uncle Chase. Because I still love her. After all that, I love her as much as I did when we first met." Riley exhaled, running a hand through his rumpled hair, pleading to the tombstone. "What do I do?"

"You could try talking to her."

Riley stiffened instinctively as another voice broke through the silence, familiar to his ears and assaulting him with a dual armament of pain and love. Slowly, he stood, his posture defensive, and rotated towards the source of the second voice.

"Alex?"

- - -

Tristan and Rory walked hand-in-hand through the darkened streets, the city lights illuminating the dusky New York skyline. Rory shook her head in slight disbelief. "I can't believe you just put your sister on a plane to California."

Tristan chuckled, shrugging shamelessly. "Well, Riley stroked the flames of love for me, I figured to return the favor."

Rory inclined her head. "A deed worthy of Cyrano deBergerac." Smiling, she recited a line from the play, "'What a fool!'"

Tristan waggled his eyebrows, finishing the quote. "'Ah, but what a gesture!'"

Rory gazed down at their entwined hands, her thumb absently stroking over Tristan's. "Do you think they'll work it out?"

"Yep. Of course I do." Tristan smirked. "As well as some other muscle groups while they're at it."

Rory rolled her eyes at the innuendo. "Perv."

Tristan wrinkled his nose. "Actually, that really wasn't an image I wanted to conjure up, myself. Ugh…"

"Serves you right," Rory retorted. Her eyes shifted to meet his, inquisitive in their sapphire sheen. "You said Riley stroked the flames of love for you. What did you mean by that?"

Tristan let an indulgent grin spread across his face. "Well, you see while I was at military school, I received a letter from a person I never thought would attempt to contact me. After contemplating heavily about the situation, I decided to write her back. So I penned the letter, addressed it, and stamped the finished product. But just as I was about to mail it, I lost my nerve and locked it away."

"Each time something happened at Amherst, good or bad, I'd take out the letter sent to me – it wasn't even long enough to be called a letter – and just look at it, thinking that if I looked at it long enough, it'd give the courage to send my own letters. But I never did. They just kept piling up in my lockbox."

Tristan gazed up into the nighttime abyss, letting the recollection ignite back into his mind. "Then one day, my best friend decided that the words I put from pen to paper were going to waste, and they deserved to directed to the person they were meant for. So, using the talents that had gotten his ass shipped to Amherst in the first place, he picked the lock and sent a bunch of the letters. Well, enough so I wouldn't notice a few were missing."

Tristan slung an arm around Rory's shoulder, her hand finding his again. "Turns out that his…deed changed a lot of things for me because when I came back, the girl the letters were addressed to didn't think of me as the jackass who left. Well, at least she was starting not to. I figured, that's good enough. I could take it from there."

Rory rotated towards him, slipping her arms around his neck. Tristan's own arms wound around her waist, fitting her body to his in a secure embrace. Rory's brilliant blue eyes gazed up at him, the warmth and affection unmistakable. Gently playing with the fine strands of hair around his neck, Rory scooted closer to him.

"Do you ever wish that we could have started all of this…us…sooner?"

Tristan pondered her question. "How soon?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know…like back at Chilton soon."

"No."

At his words, Rory's brow furrowed in surprise, and she opened her mouth. Before she could get a word out, Tristan shook his head to shush her.

"Hang on, Rory. Before you ask, let me explain. I was a little shit back then. I had so many problems, and I wasn't able to take care of myself let alone take care of a relationship. Okay, back then, yeah. I didn't to be with you. Really desperately, if you remember. But in retrospect, if we started something, it would have ended badly because I wouldn't know what to do with our relationship. I'm different now. Now I can handle it."

Yes, he was different. Physically, he was taller, tanner, more muscular, and his face held a maturity that was absent from their high school days. Even his hair was more mature: the blonde strands shorter, cleaner, not sticking up in an array spikes, but parted to the side. Rory smiled. His hair would never truly lie flat, however, as even in the cleaner style, the blonde locks still tousled slightly. Rory couldn't help but be amazed at the amount of maturity Tristan now possessed, a maturity that transcended from his looks to his personality in general. He was right. He was different; so was she. Maybe this could work.

Rory smiled, craning her neck upward to brush a kiss across his lips. "Maybe I can, too."

- - -

Riley braced himself as an onslaught of conflicting emotions rained down in a relentless barrage that he wasn't sure how to handle. Even with all his anger and hurt, he couldn't help but be affected with her beauty. But just as the thought bloomed in his mind, Riley banished it away, forcing his voice to stay bitter and impassioned. 'What are you doing here? Why are you here?"

Her answer was simple. "Because I screwed up, and I want you back."

Riley's jaw clenched as he forced himself to cling to his hostility. "You know, I thought that out of all the people who would be unfaithful, you would never do that."

"I didn't cheat on you, Riley," Alex insisted, her voice firm yet quiet.

"So what did I see?" Riley snarled. "Was it just an affectation of my paranoid mind? Because as I much as I wish I didn't see what I did, I can't wish it away. Cause I know what I saw."

"_Ian_ kissed _me_, Riley. Not the other way around."

The soft resolve in her voice almost caused him to waver. "And you just let him?"

"No!" Alex retorted vehemently. Catching herself, she shook her head. "I mean, it all happened so fast, I couldn't react in time."

Riley's anger exploded into an uncharacteristic rant as he allowed all of his frustrations and anxieties to flow, uniting in one steadfast ball of sentiments. "Why did you put yourself in that position, Alex? You know what he wanted, what he's always wanted."

"He was my _friend_, Riley. You think I'd make you stay away from Paris just because I know you shared something?"

Riley whirled, his silver eyes flashing with ire as he jabbed one finger into the empty space before him. "Don't you dare turn this one me! Not when you haven't agonized for days over what you've done wrong, wondering what could have possible compelled someone to do what you did."

"What? You don't think I haven't beat myself up over this?" Alex snapped, gesturing to herself. "You think you're the only one hurting?"

"Did you even mean it when you said it?"

At his implication, the fine thread that held Alex's composure shattered as she stormed up to Riley, smacking him solidly in the chest. "Why you self-absorbed, ego-centric, pig-headed _dolt_!"

Riley recoiled in surprise at her sudden assault. Alex shoved him back. "How dare you even question how I feel about you. I love you, dammit!" Alex yelled, the furious tears running down her cheeks as she grabbed the lapels of Riley's jacket. "You! You! YOU!" Punctuating each declaration with a punch to Riley's hard chest, Alex feebly pushed angrily against Riley's shoulder.

"I love you, Riley Daniel Beaumont. I love that you allowed me to feel again. I love that you let me feel sexy again. I love that you made me want you more than any other guy I've ever come into contact with. I love that you punched Logan out twice for me because you couldn't stand me hurt. I love that you are so quick to say you love me without any caring whatsoever if you hear it back. I love that you put me before yourself in everything that we do, and most of all, I love that you picked up every single shattered piece of my heart and put it back together without a second thought." Alex gazed pleadingly up into the pale pewter eyes that carefully veiled the emotions behind the sharp spheres.

"Don't you get it, Riley? I felt nothing in that kiss with Ian. Nothing at all because every single ounce of love I possess is directed towards you. You have me, you _own_ me, mind, body, heart, and soul. You've ruined every other man for me because the moment I saw you, you ran off with my heart, and I haven't had the will to ask for it back. You saved me, Riley, and hell if I'm going to let you walk away without fighting tooth and nail to have you back. I don't care how long it takes, I'm going to make you fall in love with me all over again."

A long silence transpired, the only sounds the faint rustling of the wind. Riley's intense, steady gaze pierced the air, unwavering as they surveyed the girl before him with a carefully controlled emotion shrouded beneath the depths. Alex held his eyes, unwilling to look away hence the gesture would persuade him of any insincerity. Finally, Riley huffed out a short chuckle, glancing away. Alex's own eyes plummeted to the ground, interpreting the laugh as one of derision. She had lost him with one moment of unconscious stupidity.

"You know, for that to happen. I'd have to hate you first." Alex's eyes flew up, the hope gleaming in the cerulean depths. Riley inched closer, his large, warm hand cradling her cheek in his palm. Alex turned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut at the electric contact. Riley's eyes had softened, the silver orbs now sparking with undisguised affection.

"I wanted to…God, did I want to." Riley's stare bore into Alex's, serious in its appearance. "But I couldn't bring myself to." He swallowed, his jaw twitching slightly. "Three days." He shrugged. "That's as far as I go…"

Riley sighed, his thumb brushing away the wayward tears. "I wanted you to hurt as much as I did. But I didn't have it in me to hate you. Because even though at times, I hurt so bad and the pain was all I could feel, I loved you. I still love you."

Riley's gaze drifted to the ground. "Look, I'm not gonna promise to be with you forever or anything. Nothing's a guarantee, especially not forever, and you and I both know I don't make promises I can't keep. But I can say that I love you, Alex, and I can promise you that I'll be with you today. And honestly, the best thing I can think of is taking this one day at a time. So if that turns into us being together forever, then so be it." Riley dipped his head down, inquiring to the woman before him, "So I'm going to ask you this question: will you be with me today?"

Alex let out the breath she was aware she held with anticipation. Closing her eyes, she thanked whatever power that granted forgiveness in Riley's heart. Taking a steadying breath, Alex nodded, this time, the tears streaming down her cheeks ones of relief and joy.

"I have a question to ask you, Riley." Taking another deep, shuddering breath, feeling her lungs replenish with oxygen as the hope she thought she had lost worked its way back into her system. Biting her lip, Alex gazed up into the immense depths of beauty that were his eyes, the beauty magnified by the thousands with the warmth she had come to associate them with. "Are you willing to forgive an idiotic, foolish girl and let her back in?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he gently caressed the porcelain skin beneath his touch. "I asked first."

Inching closer to him, Alex nodded against his soft, loving touch. "Yes, Riley. I'll be with you today. I made a mistake. A stupid, unconscious mistake. It's a mistake I'll never make again."

"Then I can forgive an idiotic, foolish, imprudent, foolhardy girl and take her back."

Alex cocked an eyebrow, her head tilting in slight reprove. "I don't recall using quite as many adjectives."

Riley grinned, a smile radiating with a genuine happiness that had been absent since he had left New York. "I'm taking creative licensing."

Alex laughed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Works for me."

Tilting her head up, Alex pressed her lips to his, thankful when he chose to deepen the kiss. Catching the lapels of his jacket, Alex yanked him to her, her tongue invading his parted lips, intent on chasing away whatever lingering doubt he had about her sincerity. His arms slipping around her waist, Alex clung to him, her mouth moving insistently against his. Their kiss was ripe with passion, desire, and possession, the goal to claim the other as his or her own. As they parted, neither bothered to disguise their heightened lust. Laying his forehead against hers, Riley allowed his eyes to flutter shut, savoring in the emotions coursing through his body. Unconsciously, the couple hugged, clutching each other closely. Alex lay her head against his shoulder, enjoying his unique smell and distinct warmth.

"Do you forgive me? Honestly?" Nervously, Alex glanced up into his silver eyes, shining with love and affection.

Riley's mouth split into a soft smile. "Yeah, I forgive you."

Without another word, Riley grasped her hand, leading her back to his uncle's tombstone. Turning towards Alex, Riley gestured to the grand marble stone.

"Ali, this is my uncle, Chase Beaumont." Returning his gaze to the stone, Riley smiled. "Uncle Chase, this is my girlfriend, Alexandra Dugrey. Oh, and just so you know, forget about what I said earlier. I'll take it from here."

Entwining her fingers in hers, Riley guided her back to the car. Sneaking a glance in her direction, Riley nudged her gently to catch her attention. "You know, maybe that was good for us."

Alex looked positively befuddled, not bothering to mask her incredulity. "What?"

Riley shrugged, his grip tightening on hers. "We were starting to get a little Stepford before then. You and I never fought."

Alex surveyed her boyfriend with dubious eyes. "Riley, we broke up!"

"Well, technically we didn't break up since neither of us actually declared such a sentiment…" Riley reasoned, a small smile playing on his face.

Alex's eyes practically bugged out of their sockets. "You're basing the fact that we almost destroyed our relationship on a _technicality_? Riley, we _could have_ broken up."

"But we didn't," Riley pointed out, "We had a healthy fight. Now, we're a healthy couple who worked out their problems with a healthy disagreement. We're set for life."

Alex rolled her eyes. "You know, if I wanted to hear a Dr. Phil-ism, I would have given Oprah a call…"

Riley waved off her claim with a brush of his hand. "Please, I'm way better looking than Dr. Phil. That man has no appeal. The mustache alone takes up half his face…"

"Oh, and by the way, the next time I see Ian Michaels, he's gonna be missing a ball when I'm done with him…"

Alex laughed, dragging his lips down to hers. "Damn, you're sexy when you're all caveman…"

Riley eagerly reciprocated the gesture, pushing her up against the door of the SUV, his thigh slipping between her legs as his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Tangling his hands in the golden strands of her hair, Riley insistently ravenged her mouth, his lips gliding relentlessly over hers. Alex clung to the collar of his jacket, a low moan rippling from her throat as his lips drifted down to her clavicle. Grabbing a hold of his hair, Alex tugged him back up to her eye level, reclaiming his mouth.

Languidly, the pair parted, both panting for breath. Riley's hand drifted up, lovingly brushing away a strand of hair that ventured into her eyesight before cradling her cheek. Alex gazed up into the silver eyes she cherished so much, her own pale spheres glistening with unshed tears as she sought out the palpable forgiveness shining in Riley's eyes. It was forgiveness she wasn't sure she deserved so readily, but regardless of the circumstances, he voluntarily gave and she willingly accepted. Riley's lips curled into their lazy, roguish grin as he dropped a kiss on her forehead, drawing her into his embrace. Closing her eyes, Alex snuggled down against the warm fabric of his t-shirt concealing his strong torso. Pressing her ear against his breast, Alex could hear the steady thump of his heart as it beat an identical staccato to hers beneath his breast. With each pulse that resonated through his breast bone, her conscious mind echoed the same fervent sentiment of possession. _Mine. Mine. Mine. _Alex knew she didn't deserve a man like Riley, and it was miraculous at the fact he still wanted her. Alex sighed heavily.

"Riley?" Muffled in the confines of his arms, Alex nuzzled her nose against his warm, firmly muscled skin.

"Yeah?" His own voice husky with emotions still left unsaid, Riley brushed a kiss to her forehead.

"Let's go home."

A smile curved half of his mouth as he only drew her in tighter. "Yeah, babe. Let's go home."

- - -

The group of collegiate students glanced up from their breakfasts as Tristan entered the sitting room, grinning widely. "That was Alex and Riley. They're on their way back from the airport."

Rory smiled. "So they patched things up?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah. They did."

Moments later when the said couple burst through the front doors, the group converged on them, exchanging glad tidings at the state of their relationship. Tristan slung his arms around the reunited couple.

"Don't do this again, guys, I don't know if I can handle being torn like that again."

Riley smirked, clapping a hand on his best friend's back. "We'll try, TJ."

The welcoming hugs and kisses were interrupted as a sharp ring permeated through the happy atmosphere. Recognizing the ring as her own, Rory shuffled through the contents of her bag before triumphantly extracting the eluding device. Frowning as she didn't recognize the number on her caller ID, Rory lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello."

A deep, masculine voice answered, the timbre unrecognizable, more pleasant than Luke's sonorous growl, yet more boisterous than her grandfather's honeyed business drawl. "Hello, may I please speak to Ms. Rory Gilmore?"

Her brow furrowing at the professionalism of the unknown voice, Rory cleared her throat, her voice cautious in its tone. "Speaking."

"Ms. Gilmore, my name is Tom MacFarlane, and I am the editor-in-chief of the _New York Times_ newspaper."

Slowly, Rory's head bobbed up and down in bemused recognition. "Yes, Mr. MacFarlane, I am familiar with you as well as your paper."

A friendly laugh drifted through the phone line. "Well, Ms. Gilmore, I wasn't about to insult your intelligence."

"Um, Mr. MacFarlane, not to seem rude, but may I ask why you are calling? I'm sure you understand it is not common for me to receive phone calls from the editor-in-chief of a internationally-known syndicate."

Another amused chuckle rang in her ear as Tom MacFarlane shook his head. "Riley wasn't lying about your wit."

"Riley?" Rory's eyes flicked to the mentioned man, her gaze thoroughly confused as she returned her attention to her impromptu speaker. "Please excuse my ignorance, Mr. MacFarlane, but what does Riley have to do with this?"

"Well, Ms. Gilmore, as of right now, the _Times_ is down one reporter, and our mutual good friend, Mr. Beaumont, has recommended your services to our paper. And I am offering you a chance to join our staff."

Rory struggled to comprehend her situation as her jaw dropped in surprise. "As in a job?"

"Well, think of it more as a paid internship as I understand you are still in school. I have read many of your articles, Ms. Gilmore, courtesy of Riley, and I must say that I am very impressed. I believe you have a true talent. I would like to offer you a chance to share that talent."

Rory groped for words, laboring to stay eloquent as the weight of his declaration struck her fully in the chest. "Mr. MacFarlane, I don't know what to say…"

"Tell you what, Ms. Gilmore, mull over your prospects and get back to me within a week. I know it's a good amount to think about."

"I'm sorry, I must ask, but do you do this to all of your potential employees?" Rory stammered.

Tom chuckled. "No, Ms. Gilmore, I don't. But with you, I'm making an exception for both your talent and because Riley speaks so highly of you."

"Thank you, Mr. MacFarlane. Thank you very much."

"No problem, Ms. Gilmore. Get back to me when you make your decision. Riley has the number."

As she ended the call, Rory turned bemusedly towards her companions. "Tom MacFarlane of the _New York Times_ just offered me a paid internship," rotating, she pointed at Riley, "and he said you're responsible for it."

Riley's brow furrowed with concern as he approached with caution, palms extended to ward off any potential wrath. "Are you mad?"

Rory started with the absurdity of his question. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"I know you wanted to do this on your own. I hope you don't mind that I kind of helped you along."

"No, of course I'm not mad," Rory reassured him, "I'm just…shocked. That's all."

"In a good way?" Tristan grinned.

"Yes," Rory answered, "in a very good way."

Riley glanced at Tristan before turning back to Rory. "Look, Rory. If you choose this, we only want one thing in return."

"What?"

"We want you to talk to your mom," Riley answered, "Make everything right."

"And go back to school," Tristan added.

Rory shuffled anxiously. "You said one thing."

"We meant one thing each," Tristan refuted.

Rory pondered for a moment before shrugging. "With such an opposing collateral, how can I refuse?"

Riley grinned, staring down at the already packed suitcases. "Well, I think we've had our fill of the city."

Tristan nodded vigorously. "I agree, and I think Stars Hollow is right along the way."

Rory shot the two males a piercing gaze. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you planned that."

Riley grinned. "But you do know better."

"And you did know we planned that," Tristan finished.

Rory sighed in compliance. "Okay. Stars Hollow, here we come…"

_Okay, so another chapter done. I know that Riley and Alex got back together rather quickly, but Riley and Alex really do genuinely love each other, but as we all know, trying to rebuild trust isn't the most effortless of tasks and that may pose a bit of conflict between Riley and Alex. So…although they are back together, they will still find themselves at odds._

_And to all you that are seriously pulling for a Rory/Tristan sexual encounter, rest assured, it will happen in a few chapters, and we go back to focusing on them in the next chapter. As for Lorelai's reappearance, that will also be in the next chapter as we take the journey back to Connecticut and Stars Hollow. Some old faces will also make their reappearance, and many of them have connection to Rory. PAY ATTENTION TO DETAIL – **perhaps backtrack and look for names** – those who will make their reappearance (aside from whom I have already promised) have already been mentioned. Let me just say that the next chapter will be a fun one! Stay tuned._


	19. When I Got Tired of Running from You

**Disclaimer: **_The usual: I own nothing._

_Well, here we are. The long awaited reunion chapter. I apologize for the delay, but I was seriously meticulous in the creation of this chapter knowing that it is a very big scene for the story. This chapter is part angst, part fluff, and a good amount romance, so I think we've covered it all. I took some liberties, adding in some dialogue from _He's Slippin' 'Em Bread, Dig?_ and some of my own little touches. As promised, an old character, or old characters, I should say, make an appearance. So here you are, and enjoy!_

_Onward!_

**Chapter 19**

_When I Got Tired of Running from You_

If one had ever lived within the municipal boundaries of Stars Hollow, especially for the duration of time Lorelai Gilmore had, one could never accuse the quirky, slightly backward town to be devoid of activity, illegal or otherwise. However, as Lorelai sat perched atop one of the counter stools in Luke's diner, a despondent sheen to her normally lively sapphire eyes that had been present since the start of the summer, she could only describe Stars Hollow as being just that: hollow. Even in a town bursting from the seams with bustle and commotion felt so empty, so vacant without the presence of a significant other.

Lorelai gazed forlornly down at her hands, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger as she flicked at the cell phone idling at her elbow. This wasn't right. She was going to get married to the most wonderful man in the world. She shouldn't be feeling this overwhelming misery that seemed to plague a good majority of her heart. She should be ecstatic, drowning herself in wedding preparations and torn between having a Foreigner cover band or a DJ at her wedding reception. But she did. Because the one person she truly wished to share her happiness with was estranged to her in a way Lorelai never thought would occur. They were a team: The Gilmore Girls. Nothing should have broken their bond. But something did, and it was devastating.

Lorelai blinked as a mug teeming with coffee, the steam wafting tantalizingly up from the depths of the cup, slid into her line of vision, and she lofted her eyes to meet a concerned blue gaze. She huffed out a chuckle that had none of her normally bright disposition behind it.

"You're offering me coffee? Willingly?" Lorelai lifted an eyebrow, "Did Caesar bonk you over the head with a spatula again?"

Luke shrugged, one hand coasting over the crown of the cap perpetually sitting atop his brown locks. "Well, you know, maybe I'd like to indulge you every once in awhile…"

Lorelai fingered the rim of the cup, raising her beloved brew to her lips. As the warmth of the liquid traveled down her throat, Lorelai hummed in satisfaction, gently poked him on the arm. "You really do love me, don't you?"

A sudden smile softened the gruff lines of Luke's face in a way that only Lorelai Gilmore had the ability of eliciting as the creases in his eyes deepened, and he shot a look at his fiancée. "You don't ever have to ask that."

Luke played with the dish towel in his grasp, twisting and yanking at the coarse fabric. "You gonna be okay?

Lorelai huffed out a snort as she quickly downed the rest of her coffee, cocking her head at his words. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You've been so patient with this whole thing, and I've been making you wait." Lorelai shook her head. "I'm sorry, Luke."

Luke didn't speak for a moment. Finally, he sighed, throwing down the dish towel and leaning forward. With a certainty that he didn't have in the years past, Luke reached out, caressing the soft contours of Lorelai's face with the backs of his knuckles. His brusque voice seemed to have a lighter quality as he smiled. "Don't ever apologize, Lorelai. Rory's been in your life long before I ever made an appearance. Seeing you two reconcile means more to me than marrying you right now." Luke shrugged. "Maybe that sounds horrible, but it wouldn't be right without your other half. I've waited over a decade for you, Lor. I can wait a few more months or however long it takes."

Unwillingly, Lorelai's eyes misted over as she reached out, grabbing the lapels of Luke's flannel shirt and jerked him down, pressing a deep, passionate kiss to his lips in gratitude. Pulling away, she smoothed the soft fabric beneath her fingertips, stroking at his stubble-laden cheek. "Call it punishment for being so blind all those years."

Luke chuckled. "If the end result is you and I married, then I'll take all the punishment you can dish."

Lorelai framed his face between her hands, craning her neck upward, her lips finding his again. "Don't tempt me, Danes."

A shrill ring cut through the romantic interlude, and Lorelai's attention diverted down towards the illuminated screen. Her brow furrowed as she glanced down at the caller ID. "Tristan?"

His own curiosity piqued, Luke acquiesced with a wave of his hand, the look in his eyes clearly conveying this incident as an isolated occurrence for any future reference, and Lorelai flipped open the phone. "Hello?"

From the faint reception of the speaker, Luke picked up Tristan's hearty voice as he greeted Lorelai. The two traded quips and barbs with the traditional quickness that only Tristan had managed to master aside from the two Gilmore girls.

A few minutes into the conversation, Lorelai finally asked the question that had lingered on the tip of her tongue from the moment that Tristan's name had popped up on her caller ID.

"So, Bible Boy, as much as conversing with you is of the utmost pleasure, I must ask why you are calling me."

There was a moment's pause as Tristan answered, and at his response, Lorelai's eyes grew wide as her mouth dropped open, her hand drifting up to cover her parted lips as her eyes began brimming with unshed tears. On the other end of the line, Luke could vaguely make out Tristan's deep timbre cracking a joke about the rarity of rendering a Gilmore girl speechless as he witnessed Lorelai let out a long, shuddering breath, her head nodding vigorously.

"Okay, kiddo. That sounds perfect." Luke could hear Tristan begin his parting words before Lorelai recaptured his attention. "And Tristan?" She paused, swallowing down the tears that were beginning to spill over.

"Thank you."

Snapping the phone shut, Lorelai reached out covering Luke's hand, her thumb stroking the bare skin of his left ring finger. "That was Tristan. He's heading to Stars Hollow, and Rory's with him." Lorelai gazed up into Luke's eyes, her own sapphire spheres shining with a renewed hope. "She wants to see me."

- - -

In the confines of Tristan's SUV, Rory fidgeted as she picked up the strands of his conversation with her mother. With every minute that passed, Rory could feel the dozens of insecurities and inhibitions creep into her conscious mind that she had harbored since the eve their journey back from New York. The thousands of possible outcomes of the scenario played their course in her mind, all boiling down to two options: she and her mother would release their respective grievances, trade their respective apologies, and everything would return to their rightful state of normalcy or Lorelai would slam the door in her face, refusing to mend the rift that had divided them for the longest tenure they had ever experienced. It was simple and to the point: Rory missed her mother, and damned if she was going to let this split prolong into a state that rivaled the elder Gilmore girl and her own mother.

Rory was jerked from her thoughts as the telltale snap of Tristan's phone shutting permeated her ears, and she allowed her gaze to drift to her boyfriend, digressing from her anxiety to revel in the title that she had bestowed upon her longtime friend.

"So…" Unable to hide the eager anticipation from her voice, Rory cocked her eyebrow in anticipation as Tristan placed the phone into a small divot in the panel of his door. "What did she say? Is she completely repulsed at the idea of seeing me again? Will she slam the door in my face upon my arrival? Does my name invoke a most uncharacteristic anger to run through her veins? What?"

In his mind, the most effective way to successfully halt a classic Rory Gilmore rant would be to kiss aforementioned girl senseless, but at the moment, in his state of driving their vehicle, Tristan was unable to perform that particular method of action. So he did the next best thing. Clamping a hand over her rambling mouth, Tristan shot her a reproving look.

"Rory, babe, this isn't some sordid gothic novel. Your mother will not chase you out of Stars Hollow wielding a pitch fork and torch with the entire town's population swarming behind her with the intention of burning you at the stake." At Rory's distinct glare, Tristan shook his head. "She _wants_ to see you."

Rory's eyes flicked down to the hand covering her mouth before settling back on his own eyes in an unvoiced message, and Tristan removed the barrier impeding her speech.

"So she didn't rant and rave, cursing my name to the blasphemous tea gods?"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "God, I swear you're getting more neurotic with age. Our _formative_ years are supposed to be the ones where we're doubting everything…" Shaking his head at the ridiculous quality of her words, Tristan chuckled in amusement. "No, Rory. If anything, she sounded nervous at the thought of seeing you again."

"Why?" Rory persisted, "She doesn't know if she'll forgive me?"

"No," Tristan corrected, "because she doesn't know if _you'll_ forgive _her_." Tristan sighed, searching out her hand and entwining their fingers. "This is your mother, Ror. This is your best friend, your most trusted confidante. Do you really think she would have any sort of malicious motive when it came to you?"

Rory glanced down at their joined hands, reveling in the reassuring weight of Tristan's strong, secure palms as she let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You're right, Tris. I'm being stupid."

"Glad to see you're acknowledging that. Ow! Hey! That was a joke!" In the cozy confines of the car, Tristan was unable to dodge the well-aimed swipe that came from his passenger. Rubbing the spot where she had smacked him, Tristan scowled. "Geeze, woman, you've also gotten more _violent_ with age. You never used to hit me this much when we were teenagers. I was _kidding_. Have a sense of humor."

"Considering the situation at hand, my sense of humor will not be making a scheduled appearance, Tristan," Rory remarked dryly, shooting a glance at her boyfriend. "You know how I'm feeling about all this."

Tristan sighed. "Yeah, I do, and it's understandable. Look, Ror, think about it. It's your _mother_, a woman who loves you more than life itself. I know you both want to work this whole thing out. So don't overanalyze any of this stuff. Just…you know, _do it_…"

"Great," Rory huffed, "I'm taking advice from a Nike slogan."

Tristan shrugged. "Barring copyright infringement, yes. Don't think too much about it, Rory. This is the case where your analytical mind is worth jack. Go with your gut and take it from there." He propped an elbow up on the window panel, glancing over at his companion with an amused lilt to his smile. "Wow. Since when have _I_ been the more mature one in this relationship?"

Rory's face relaxed into a smile as she leaned over, brushing a chaste kiss against his cheek. "Thanks, Tristan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Tristan smirked. "Here's to you never finding out…"

- - -

A few miles ahead, Paris Gellar's BMW cruised down the highway on the way back from New York to Connecticut, Declan Finnegan behind the wheel. Catching the look of absolute exhaustion on his girlfriend's face, Finn had gallantly offered to drive them back. It had taken much persuading on his part, but in the end, Paris had acquiesced, reluctantly handing the keys over to her Aussie significant other, threatening bodily harm if any sort of scratch came to her car with him at the helm. He was currently humming to the Ace of Base tune filtering from the stereo when his companion caught his attention.

"Finn?"

Rotating his head, Finn shot a smile at his companion. "Yes, love?"

Paris refused to meet his eye, instead diverting her eyes downward to the tangled hands in her lap. She paused for a moment before vocalizing her thought, continuing hesitantly. "What's going to happen once we get back to Connecticut?"

The smile on Finn's face faded as he frowned, afraid of the direction their conversation was headed. "I'm not following, Paris."

"What's going to happen with us?"

Finn was surprised at the timid quality of Paris' voice, noticeably vulnerable. His mouth tightened as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. "Meaning will our relationship progress the way it's been so far," he reiterated her question into a statement, blowing out a long breath from between his teeth.

"Yes."

Finn returned his eyes to the road, not wishing to see her expression to his impending inquiry. "Is that what you want?"

"The question was directed at you," Paris countered.

Finn acknowledged her statement with a nod of his head. "True. But I'm not the one who's harboring doubts, Paris. You know exactly how I feel about you."

"I just…" Paris faltered. She really wasn't good with this heart to heart stuff.

"Just tell me what's on your mind, love," Finn prodded gently, reaching over to lay a hand on her leg, delighted when she didn't draw back.

"Logan."

Finn's eyebrow shot skyward with surprise at the unanticipated intrusion to their conversation. "Huntz? Are you harboring some kind of clandestine crush on that bugger?" Finn shook his head. "Damn, why does he get all the girls? For your information, Huntzberger may have the money, but Finnegan has the accent."

Immediately, Paris refuted his claim, her brow furrowing as she scrunched her nose in disgust. "Ugh, no! Nothing like that! Besides, if I remember correctly, _Finnegan_, you've procured your fair share of co-eds."

Finn's face relaxed as his eyes misted over with nostalgia. "Ah, yes. The glory days. No lass can resist the Aussie charm." Returning his attention to their current quandary, Finn burrowed back into his seat, twisting the steering wheel in his hands. "So what about my mate Huntz is getting you all hot and bothered, Gellar?"

Paris opened her mouth to speak, but instead changed her mind, shaking her head slightly. "It's stupid."

"Not quite a phrase I normally associate with you, darling." Finn remarked. Gently bumping her shoulder, he shot her a reassuring smile, gesturing to himself with a poke of his thumb. "You can tell me. Declan Finnegan's done his stake of stupidity."

Paris drew in a breath to muster up her courage before letting everything out in a steady stream of slightly coherent thought. "What are they going to think of me? I mean face it, Finn, I'm not the leggy, big-breasted, lingerie models that normally hang off your arm."

Finn waved his hand dismissively as though her anxiety could as easily be batted away. "My friends have neither bearing nor consequence on whom I choose to date."

"So they'll be okay with you dating me?" Paris ventured, her sharp brown eyes searching his closely.

Finn snorted with derision. "Honestly, love, I doubt they would notice, let alone care. Their perception is somewhat limited."

"But if they do have a problem with it?" Paris pressed, the concern evident in her features.

"Then they are idiots for judging you before truly getting to know you," Finn promptly replied, hesitation absent from his voice.

"Logan knows me," Paris couldn't help but point out.

Finn scoffed. "Huntz doesn't _know_ anyone," he amended, "at least not really. He bases his opinion of people off of what he sees the first time around then appeases whatever interaction he has with them to the image he wants to see. He only changes his initial opinion when the obvious bashes his head in with a rather hefty object of dense material." Finn shrugged. "That's the way it works, and that's the way it's always been with him." Slamming one hand on the steering wheel in his frustration, Finn's jaw tightened.

"Bloody hell, Paris, what d'you want me to say? That I'd pick you over my friends? Well, the answer is yes. Huntz, Colin, they can be bloody dense buggers if the fancy hits them, so if they can't see that you make me happy, then I won't bother."

"Has it always been that way?"

Finn contemplated his answer before replying in all honesty. "No."

"Then why now?"

He shrugged. "It's different now. Maybe it's horrid, but their friendship somehow seems superficial compared to this relationship…" Finn waved one hand in his struggle to articulate his feelings. "I mean, for the longest time, it was just us. Our male bonding consisted of getting completely snookered in some pub and picking up whatever fine girl threw herself at us first and the ritual LDB get together, but things didn't go beyond that. I mean, sure, Huntz and Colin are both intelligent blokes, they did get into Yale, but in-depth conversations are certainly not common fixtures in our repertoires." Finn ran a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sure it'll never come to that – you know, me having to choose between you and my friends, but I denno. Maybe I've just moved beyond getting completely blasted and the meaningless hook up."

"I see what Reporter Girl and Dugrey have. I see what Beaumont and Little Dugrey have. At one time, I thought that kind of thing wasn't for me. Now, I'm not so sure I'm completely opposed to it. I see their interactions, and I find that I want that." Finn dropped his eyes down to his lap. "I'm not saying that it won't take me awhile to get used to being a one woman man, but I can say that I'm liking what's come of it."

Finn shrugged. "For once, I want to be with someone with whom I can argue the merits of having a divided government opposed to a single-party dominance rather than some floozy bimbo who believes 'single-party dominance' means only attending social functions of one fraternity." Finn's fingers drummed anxiously on the steering wheel as he drew out a suffering breath. "If they can't see how important this relationship is to me, then our friendship must mean nothing, and I don't want futile, empty friendships." Finn shook his head. "Not anymore."

"You'd do that for me?" Paris couldn't keep the skepticism from her tone. In her past interactions with the Three Stooges, she couldn't help but catch an inkling of a staunch brotherly bond between them, a bond she hated to think could be broken by a thing like a relationship.

The piercing amber of Finn's dark eyes softened as he turned his gaze to his companion. Tentatively, he reached over the center console, tenderly brushing her jaw line with his knuckles. "Haven't you figured it out by now, love? I'm going bloomin' mad for you. You're the first one that's worth it." The tender moment held for a long second before Finn's attention was diverted back to the stereo.

"Wait a tick," his eyes lighting up with recognition, Finn fiddled with the stereo. "Cheap Trick! I love this song!"

As Finn cranked up the volume, his deep voice singing along with "I Want You to Want Me," his focus fixated on the road, Paris leaned back against her seat, a smile spreading over her face at his last statement. She sure as hell didn't ever figure she'd fall for Declan Finnegan, but now that she had, she sure as hell couldn't deny it didn't feel nice.

- - -

Rory leaned against the hood of Tristan's SUV, her posture tense as she burrowed even further into her jacket. She gazed with apprehensive eyes up to the two-story structure before her eyes. This was the Lorelai-dubbed Crap Shack, her home, and the only real home she had known. But as she stared up at the familiar edifice, knowing who waited for her inside but not exactly what, Rory wasn't sure how much of a home she was coming to.

Silence hung heavy the rest of the way to Stars Hollow after Tristan had conversed with her mother, and each and every minute, Rory's mind kept replaying possible scenarios in her head. She imagined the words they would exchange, the expressions both would use, and the culminating result. But as Tristan pulled up to the threshold of her hometown and the only home she had ever known, Rory found herself completely and utterly blanking, her wit and composure fleeing in the manner she herself at the beginning of the summer. Rory had looked up at the sign denoting the entrance to Stars Hollow with a mixture of trepidation, delight, and terror, the rectangular block of wood almost mocking her in its idle existence, a stark contrast to the absolute turmoil running rampant in her body. Tristan, astutely sensing her consternation, had reached over, grasping her hand in a secure, comforting hold. The gesture, so simple in its purpose, had calmed her for the moment, but staring up at the Crap Shack, Rory felt every single concern she possessed in her conscious and unconscious mind barge to the surface once again.

"Hey."

At the voice at her ear, Rory jumped, slightly disrupted from her ruminations. Relaxing as she felt Tristan's comforting presence beside her, Rory snuggled into his side as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. It was just them in Stars Hollow. Finn and Paris had continued back to New Haven, and Alex and Riley had traveled further south towards Hartford. Tristan was the only one with her, but strangely enough, she felt he was all she needed. Shaking her head morosely, Rory shifted to face him.

"I can't do this, Tristan." Rory rotated in an attempt to flee back into the relative security of Tristan's SUV when he slid over, abruptly halting her departure.

Tristan shook his head resolutely. "No. Nuh-uh, darling. No running." Tristan blocked her path to the passenger door, his navy eyes flashing with determination as he used his size to loom over her prospective exit.

"I didn't drive all the way here for you to turn tail and bolt," Tristan pointed out. "Beau got you your dream job, and you're going to hold up your end. Now turn around and go." Tristan waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the situation.

"You know I love to see your derriere as much as I do your lovely countenance."

"Tristan, be serious!" Rory's voice lowered to an almost petulant whine as she reached out to half-heartedly smack his arm. "What if she doesn't want to see me?"

Tristan shrugged. "You're just gonna have to take that chance." Dipping his head, he met her eyes, posing a question. "But you really don't believe that, do you?"

Her straight, white teeth sinking into her bottom lip, Rory sighed, shaking her head. "No. I don't."

"So stop worrying." Spinning her around, Tristan gave her a firm, persuasive prod forward, propelling her into a slow gait towards the house. Rory shifted her gaze back to him, and he responded with an encouraging hitch of his head. "Go on."

Before she took another step, Rory swiveled to face him directly, her brilliant eyes pleading with him, searching his for assurance. She took in his casual lean against the fender of his car, his hands stuffed nonchalantly in his jacket pockets. "Tell me it's gonna be okay," she implored, once again drawing her bottom lip anxiously between her teeth.

"It's gonna be okay," Tristan promised, giving her a soft, loving smile that sent her pulse racing beneath her skin as the flutters flurried within her stomach. Beneath his calm, steady, if not slightly amused at her flustered disposition, presence, she felt herself soothed by his unfaltering support. He was with her; she could do this.

Once again mustering up her resolve, Rory tentatively stretched out a shaky, tremulous finger, ringing the doorbell glowing prominently against the worn wood of the frame. As the familiar chime rang through the house, a series of canine howls answered, and Rory listened as the resounding clatter signaled Lorelai's jaunt from one end of the house to the other, clashes and clangs mingling with the continuous barks and the occasional expletive. Rory stiffened slightly as the sound of her mother's voice grew distinctly louder, signaling her impending appearance.

"Ah! No! Back, you mangy mutt!"

With an exasperated sigh, Lorelai threw the front door open, growling at Paul Anka as he yelped back at his owner. Rory backed away from the doorstep as the large dog skidded out the door, paws scrabbling for purchase before he righted himself and bounded down the porch steps. Whipping her head up, Lorelai opened her mouth, ready to greet her visitor when the sight before her eyes halted all imminent salutations.

They stared at each other. Startling blue eyes locked on to an identical pair passed from mother to daughter. Only one who knew the Gilmore girls well enough, or had ever been close enough to ever notice, would know that each pair of eyes, both extraordinarily beautiful in their respective appearances, held subtle differences. Lorelai's were slightly darker; Rory's had the tiniest hint of pale ivory around the pupil. But at this moment, both pairs of luminous sapphire spheres begged the same thing. Forgiveness. Acceptance. Repentance. But neither spoke, both unable to foray over that divide that had blockaded them for those agonizing months. Mother hovered at the doorway, gaze fixated on daughter shifting anxiously on the porch. Daughter's hand drifted up to her hair, nervously tucking a strand behind her ear as she regarded mother with a cautious, wary eye. Mouths parted slightly, on the verge of verbalizing feelings long stifled beneath a begrudging façade of bitterness, hurt, and anger. But no sound escaped. So instead, they simply stared, vivid, boundless eyes conveying emotions, expressing sentiments that the boundaries of the spoken word failed to transcend. Finally, it was Lorelai who ventured the first verbal offering.

"Uh…hi."

Rory nodded her response, her hands jammed awkwardly into the back pocket of her jeans. "Hi."

A long, awkward pause commenced, the air between the two women crackling with unresolved tension and apprehension. Both pairs of eyes reverted down to the ground, refusing to make eye contact. Finally, Lorelai spoke again, her voice tight with stifled emotions.

"So…was this your lame attempt at an adolescent rebellious phase? Because I gotta tell you, wearing all black and attending protests would have been a helluva lot easier."

Rory shrugged, her eyes plummeting once again to the worn wooden surface of their porch. "I guess."

"Not to mention this sudden bout of insubordination is about three years too late, kiddo," Lorelai mused, her face still impassive, not betraying a single emotion.

Rory's head slowly bobbed up and down in a lethargic nod, her hopes plummeting as her eyes had done seconds before. "Yeah."

"You put me through hell, kiddo," Lorelai murmured, her appearance ambiguous and inexpressive. From a distance, even Tristan couldn't even decipher which emotion Lorelai felt.

"I know," Rory

"I really don't know what to say," Lorelai continued. "You leave home, you drop out of Yale, you put every single one of your dreams on the backburner…you let every single thing you've worked your whole life for spiral down the toilet based on the words of one idiotic man…" Lorelai paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I honestly don't know what to say."

Rory allowed her eyes to drift shut, images of her mother's disappointment flashing beneath her lids. That was the one thing she couldn't take. She could endure the anger, the disdain. Hell, Rory could even take the bitterness. But the disappointment she couldn't bear. Hanging her head, Rory let out a deep suffering breath.

"You don't have to," she whispered, "you've said enough." Swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill, Rory shuffled on the porch step, shifting to depart.

"I think I'm just going to go…"

Catching the defeated look in her daughter's eyes, Lorelai could keep her surly façade no longer as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears of joy. "Wait."

Rory turned back, bracing herself for the onslaught of verbal assault that was sure to come. Taking a step forward, Lorelai spread her arms out, beckoning to her daughter. "C'mere, sweetie."

Finally allowing her own tears to spill, Rory rushed into her mother's embrace, sobbing unabashed, remorseful tears as the strong, loving, and wonderfully familiar sensation of her mother's arms encompassed her body. As her mother's arms tightened around her frame, Rory sighed, fleeting fragments of memories flashing behind her eyelids like snippets of movie clips: Lorelai's arms cradling her as a toddler, giggles erupting from the pair as mother blew a long raspberry across her daughter's stomach; Rory running to the safety of her mother's arms after her first day at Chilton, a welcome haven from the hell she had just been immersed in; Leaping into Lorelai's embrace as they shared in her ultimate triumph, graduating from Chilton as the valedictorian of the class of 2003. They had embraced many times over the years, the instances countless, the reasons varied: comfort, joy, sorrow. But as she sniffled into the warm, soft fabric of Lorelai's sweater, Rory allowed her eyes to drift shut, inhaling her mother's distinct scent. This embrace was the one that meant the most. Rory could only sigh out one word, but the word conveyed everything.

"Mommy…"

"Baby," Lorelai answered as she clutched Rory to her, laying her cheek against her daughter's, their sweet tears mingling. Together, they rocked, pouring repressed emotions out as they cried, the salty tears cleansing their souls, laying the foundations of unspoken promises and repairing the bonds that had frayed during their respite. Lorelai stroked the deep chestnut of her daughter's wavy locks as she felt the final piece of her heart, once broken and shattered, slide into place. She was whole once again.

Lifting their heads, the Gilmore girls looked once again into each other's eyes, reluctant to break their embrace. Rory sniffled back her remaining tears.

"Mom, I'm…"

Lorelai halted her apology with a loving kiss to her forehead. "No, hon, forget it. I don't need to hear it. _I'm_…"

This time, Rory diverted her mother's words, pulling her down for another hug, shaking her head. "No, stop. I don't need one, either."

Lorelai's face broke out into a wide, delighted smile, the relief evident on her face. A breathless chuckle left her lungs as she clung to her daughter, lovingly brushing her wispy bangs away from her alabaster forehead. "What a pair we make, huh, kiddo?"

Rory let out a short, halting laugh. "That we do." Her face sobered as she breathed in her mother's wonderfully familiar smell. "I missed you, Mom."

Lorelai sighed, the gesture heavy with contented joy. "Oh, baby, you have no idea." Imploring her daughter with a serious eye, Lorelai gripped Rory's arms.

"Never again?"

"Never again," Rory affirmed, burying her face into her mother's embrace.

Smacking a kiss to Rory's forehead, Lorelai grabbed her hand. "C'mon, sweets. We need to tell the town the prodigal daughter has returned."

At the mention of the town, Rory's eyes brightened as her face broke into a wide smile. "Luke's?" she ventured, a hopeful glint to her features.

"Duh," Lorelai pronounced, rolling her eyes at her daughter. "Geeze, a couple of months and you've regressed back to a state of human normalcy." Lorelai gave a dramatic shake of her head. "Shame. Well, I guess we must re-Gilmoreize you. Heaven only knows what living with Emily has done to your system. I'd hate to think of the things that woman has subjected you to." Turning to her daughter, Lorelai's eyes opened in wide wonder. "Was it bad?"

Rory grinned. "No Luke's," she replied, response enough.

Lorelai gasped. "Perish the thought!" Picking up her pace, Lorelai tugged the younger Gilmore along. "Come, my formerly banished offspring, double time! Step to it! We must replenish your fuel system. That long without Luke's can't possibly be healthy. You need coffee! And quick! Mush!"

The lilting chime of giggles followed in her wake as the two Gilmore girls shared in their mirth. Together, they skipped down the steps, hand in hand, refusing to break their hold. Tristan lounged against the hood of his car, looking on the sight before him with delight. He straightened as Lorelai stopped before him, yanking him into an impromptu hug.

"Thank you."

Slightly taken aback at the gesture, Tristan froze before awkwardly patting her back. As she finally let go of him, he grinned. "For what?"

Lorelai's face shone with a complete seriousness as she smiled through her tears. Glancing at her daughter, Lorelai squeezed their joined hands. "For bringing my baby back."

"Aw, it was nothing," Tristan humbly waved away her gratitude with a hand. Sharing an affectionate look with the object of their conversation, Tristan smiled, chucking Rory's chin affectionately. "All she needed was a little push."

- - -

Tristan trailed behind the newly reunited Gilmore girls as they ambled down the street. Lorelai grasped her daughter's hand, tugging her along, repudiating the urge to relinquish contact with Rory as her boisterous voice echoed in their wake, the elder Gilmore playing herald to her offspring.

"Make way citizens of Stars Hollow, the prodigal daughter has returned! Clear the way!"

Rory giggled, prompting her mother to cease her insane antics with a small shove. Laughing along, Lorelai glanced back down at the small scraps of paper in her hands denoting all the things they had to talk about.

"Okay. Babette - cats."

"Death?" Rory ventured, glancing down at her mother's untidy scrawl.

Lorelai shook her head. "No."

"Adopted another one?" Rory tried again, enjoying in their crazy moment.

"No," Lorelai shook her head again.

Rory shrugged, unsure of the event her mother was alluding to. "What?"

"Recorded their meows, did some editing and cut a record of them singing Ring of Fire," came the amused answer.

Tristan snorted, his own head shifting with the unpredictable antics of the Stars Hollow population. "Well, that goes straight to the top of my charts."

Lorelai shuffled through the scraps to the next paper. "Oh, I started reading _Beowulf_. You know, that new translation you recommended."

Rory lit up with delight. "The Seamus Heaney? Good for you!"

Lorelai turned the piece over. "Yeah. And stopped reading _Beowulf_, jotted on the same slip three minutes later."

Tristan chuckled, the actions of the elder Gilmore not surprising in the slightest. "Well, you gave it the old college try," he remarked.

Lorelai jerked with excitement as she came to the next slip. "Oh, this is a new one! Kirk's got a new hobby. He's doing –"

"Doing Tai Chi?" Rory and Tristan finished her thought in unison, their eyes diverted away from the elder Gilmore girl and towards the grass of the gazebo.

Lorelai frowned, whipping her head to her younger companions. "How'd you two know that?"

"Because he's doing it right there," Rory answered, pointing with a finger to the quirky man attempting to contort his body in ways his lanky frame surely wouldn't allow.

"Is it possible for him to do something without looking a little silly?" Lorelai pondered out loud, observing Kirk with one eyebrow quirked with entertainment.

"He wouldn't be Kirk then," Tristan stated.

Lorelai nodded her acquiescence, returning her attention back to the slips in her hand. "Bendleshnitz?" Frowning, she shrugged.

"That's not English." Rory pointed out with amusement.

"I know. I'll add it to the ones that I can't make out." Lorelai read the next one. "And…brazzlefrat."

"Another unreadable one."

Lorelai huffed out her frustration. "They're stacking up!" As the looming shadow of Luke's appeared, Lorelai halted her daughter. "Okay. Now wait out here."

"Why?"

Lorelai waved away her protest. "It's a thing. A moment thing. Just wait here for a second."

"Okay…" Rory followed her mother, not bothering to question her slightly

Together, Lorelai led her younger counterparts until they stopped before the familiar structure of Luke's Diner. Rory broke into a wide smile, her voice slightly awestruck as she gazed at the edifice, the delicious smells wafting through her nostrils. "It looks beautiful."

Reveling in their silliness, Lorelai matched Rory's smile, nudging her with a shoulder. "Just like you remembered?"

"Just like in my dreams," Rory answered, her tone slightly breathless from the diner's magnificence.

"And let me guess, Bible Boy was a significant fixture, sprawled out on the counter and wearing nothing but a strategically-placed dish towel?" Lorelai teased, slyly glancing at her offspring out of the corner of her eye.

Rory whirled to her mother, her eyes wide and scandalized. "Mom!"

Tristan mimicked her action, wincing as his own address flew out in an exasperated groan. "Lorelai!"

At their responses, Lorelai lit up with merriment. ""Ah-hah! You didn't deny it though, did you?"

"Not gonna dignify that with a response," Rory mumbled, shying away from her mother's prying gaze.

"So you _have_ thought of him naked!" Lorelai pressed, having far too much fun with her daughter's discomfort."

"Mother, I've already _seen_ him naked! I don't have to imagine it. I know what he looks like!" The words burst forth from Rory's subconscious mouth before she had a chance to process them for herself.

Tristan smirked, slowly counting down the seconds until Rory comprehended exactly what she had said. It didn't take long for the complete weight of her rejoinder to come crashing down on her conception. Halting in her recognition, Rory squinched her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands as she emitted a sound that was a cross between an agonized shriek and a piteous moan, the realization of her response ringing painfully in her mind. Lorelai didn't reply, only stared ahead, a gleeful lilt to her smile as she motioned for her daughter to wait outside. Rory peeked at her mother through spread fingers.

"Any chance you could be struck with temporary amnesia and completely forget the last exchange that just transpired?"

Lorelai's jovial grin widened extensively. "None. Not a chance at all."

Rory groaned, muttering under her breath, "That's what I figured."

Tristan shook his head, smiling to himself. Lorelai and Rory had immediately regressed back to the easy banter as though the months of their respite had merely been a hiccup in the breathing pattern of the two women. It seemed as though the world was finally right again. Glancing through the pane glass window of Luke's Diner, Tristan noted the mass of Stars Hollow inhabitants lounging at various tables and the counter.

With an infinite energy, Lorelai bounded up to the counter. Luke noticed her presence immediately, lighting up at the sight of his extremely happy fiancée. "Hey!"

Lorelai bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, absolutely bursting with exhilaration. "You ready?"

Luke cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

Lorelai threw her arms in the air, spread wide in excitement. "For this! The moment you've all been waiting for!" With a dramatic pause, she rolled her tongue in a bad impression of a drum roll. "Brrrr!"

Luke gestured vaguely to the sound. "What's that?"

Dissuaded from her grand proclamation, Lorelai wavered in her motions. "It's a drum roll."

"It sounded more like a helicopter," Luke commented, blissfully unaware of the entrance he was deterring.

Lorelai huffed with exasperation. "Well, it's a drum roll, go with it, okay?" As Luke murmured his agreement, gesturing for her to proceed, Lorelai shot him a look of peeved gratitude, resuming her herald and flinging open the door. "Ladies and gentlemen, Rory Gilmore!"

With a bright smile, Rory sprung through the opened entrance with Tristan following behind. "Hi Luke!"

Luke's face brightened immediately, his arms thrown out in greeting. "Hey, Rory, you're back!"

Rory stepped into the embrace, hugging her surrogate father back with enthusiasm. "I'm back!"

Tristan spread his own arms wide, smirking cheekily at the diner owner. "What, no hug for me, Luke?"

Luke's attention, however, was completely fixated on the younger version of his fiancée, looking Rory up and down. "Good! You look good. You look healthy, happy. Huh, here with your mom, both of you here. Yeah, it's great, you know!" Luke pumped both fists forward. "Yay!"

Lorelai and Tristan both held back snorts at the uncharacteristic term of jubilance uttered from Luke's mouth. Luke, realizing his previous words, paused awkwardly. "I don't think I've ever said 'yay' before. Sounded weird," he muttered, running a hand over his head.

"A little," Lorelai concurred, still stifling her laughter.

Grabbing Rory by the arm, Luke led her over to a table, holding the chair out for her. "Come, sit, sit."

As the group settled into their seats, Rory glanced at her mother. "What was that sound you were making?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes at the persistent question. "A drum roll!"

Rory scrunched her nose up in confusion. "It sounded like a helicopter or something."

"That's what I said," Luke agreed.

Lorelai slapped the surface of the table in aggravation. "Has no one heard a drum roll before?"

Luke waved a hand down at the table they were sitting at. "Hey, I saved you the best table in case you showed up."

Rory's eyebrows shot skyward. "In case? It was mandatory," she joked, sending a look to her mother.

Luke fluttered around the table, talking rapidly in his thrill of finally having Rory home. "What can I get you? Ah, never mind. I'm going to bring you everything you like. I know what you like."

Rory smiled at the diner owner. "Sounds good."

Before Luke could turn away, Lorelai caught his arm as an idea struck her consciousness. "Oh, hey! You were with me when I wrote this." She held up one of the unintelligible notes. "Uh, what does it say?"

Luke took the paper from her fingers, staring down at the receipt from one of their dates. His blue gaze perked with recognition as he rapped the paper with the eraser of his pencil. "Oh, this is from that stupid Mexican restaurant we went to."

"Right. I wrote something on the other side…" Lorelai trailed off as Luke began shaking his head, his complete concentration fixated down at the slip of paper.

"Man, this place stunk!" Luke commented, not paying attention to the woman beside him

"I know, but read the back there. I've got to know what it says," Lorelai pressed.

Luke gestured down to the price printed at the bottom of the receipt. "Look what we paid! Unbelievable."

"Downright usurious!" Lorelai agreed, beginning to get a bit flustered at the diner owner's one-track mind. "Now look at the other side, there. The brazzelfrat?"

"They _did_ charge me for that second beer!" Luke fumed, utterly incensed. "I never got it."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Scandalous. But the other side."

"Six bucks for guacamole," came her muttered reply.

Seeing that her fiancée was undeterred from his tirade, Lorelai snatched the paper back, huffing with exasperation. "Oh, just bring me what she's having."

Snapped from his reverie, Luke tapped the order pad. "Coming right up."

As soon as Luke disappeared into the kitchen, Lane slid into the empty seat from where she had been waiting with her perpetual liveliness. "Mother and daughter, together again, and all is right with the world." Lane's eyes shifted to Tristan. "And hottie boy toy at daughter's elbow. The universe will never have a shortage of sexual activity." Lane grinned her welcome. "Hi, Lorelai. Hi, Tristan."

Lorelai returned the smile, drawing the petite girl into a one-armed hug. "Hi, Lane."

Tristan inclined his head in turn. "Lane, always a pleasure."

Almost bouncing in her seat, Lane shifted to Rory. "So. Next Wednesday night, I need you. Tell me you're not busy," Lane rattled off. Flicking her eyes to Tristan, she hitched a thumb in his direction. "And you cannot use him as an excuse."

Slightly bemused, Rory shrugged. "I'm not sure, why?"

Lane was almost livid in her excitement. "We're doing a showcase. Me and the band. Not a gig, a _showcase_. And a label's going to be there." As Lorelai gasped appreciatively, Lane whipped around to face her. "I'm shaking! I shouldn't shake, I'm a drummer! It'll mess up the beat. But, my God, we're playing for a label."

At her friend's opportunity, Rory wrapped her arms around the Korean girl, hugging her tightly. "Wow! Lane, I'm absolutely there. This is big!"

"Very big," Lane affirmed. "Unless it's a 'Waiting for Guffman' thing and the label guys don't show up…" She paused, eyes wide with fear. "Did I just jinx it?"

"I don't know. Let's do that un-jinxing thing we used to do, just in case," Rory answered, holding out her pinkie finger.

Lane nodded her agreement. "Good."

Lorelai and Tristan watched with amusement as Lane and Rory linked pinkies, reciting with complete solemnity, "Jinx back, double pinkie, round the side, double pinkie, jinx back." Finishing their chant with two claps, both women looked satisfied with their successful "un-jinxing."

Lorelai's eyes broadened with her girlish enthusiasm. "Hey, I want to do that!" Thrusting out a pinkie, she poked Tristan. "C'mon, Bible Boy."

Cocking an eyebrow, Tristan refused her offering. "No way, Lorelai. I will do a good amount of things for you, but completely emasculating myself is not on that list."

Rory looked scandalized. "It's a serious thing, Mom! You don't just do it."

Resigned, Lorelai lowered her pinkie. "Sorry."

Rory waved her hands, grabbing her friend by the forearms. "Well, Lane, you guys are so prepared for this. That tape you gave me of your new stuff was awesome!"

Lorelai perked up. "Hey, what if I jinx it! Do I get to do the un-jinxing thing then?"

Lane shook her head. "If we jinx-back a second time within the hour, it cancels out the first jinx-back."

"It's like a science," Tristan mused.

Lorelai pouted, propping her chin on folded arms. "Sorry."

Lane turned back to Rory. "So, what were your favorites on the tape?"

Rory quickly perked up with the music talk, rattling off her preferences. "Well, 'Melissa' was catchy, and 'Colleen Francine'. But that other one - 'Rebecca in the Morning'? That was my favorite."

Lane clapped her hands rapidly in agreement. "Mine too!"

Tristan's expression radiated a wry amusement. "Zach's into songs with girl's names, huh?"

"He thinks that's our best shot at radio play. Worked for the Police, the Knack, Franz Ferdinand," Lane rationalized.

"Areosmith, too," Tristan offered.

"Good thinking," Rory complimented.

Lane started as she remembered something. "Hey. Do you want to be our DA Pennebaker? We're borrowing a video camera, and we need someone sober to do the photography."

Rory smiled, pretending to seriously pondering her options. "I could set my crack pipe aside for the night and do that."

"Thanks!" Whipping out a pad, Lane scribbled Rory's name down before looking up. "You plus one, right?"

Rory's brows drew together. "Plus one?"

Lane shot a pointed look to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man to her right. "You plus Hot Buns beside you?"

"Lane, can we please not refer to my body parts?" Tristan huffed out in an exaggerated sigh. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, he leaned in towards Rory's oldest friend. "It gets her hot and bothered."

"If he keeps this up, it won't be plus one for longer, Lane," Rory commented sweetly, her eyes revealing a warning glint that was sent towards her boyfriend.

Lane stared for a moment before turning back to the other Gilmore. "Righty, then. How about you, Lorelai?"

Lorelai shook her head apologetically. "Working that night, sweetie, but break a leg." She whipped her head to Rory. "Does that get me a hand thingy?"

"No."

Lorelai snapped her fingers in disappointment. "Rats."

Lane turned as a customer caught her attention. Turning back towards the party of three, she straightened, getting back to her job. "Nice to see you back, Rory. See you guys."

Luke bustled up to the table, placing various plates before each of them. "Food. First wave only. Second wave, five minutes."

Rory brightened, breathing in the succulent smells she had sorely missed from her respite from home. "Let's dig in."

A sly glint to her sapphire eyes, Lorelai glanced meaningfully down at their food. "I hope it's not cold." Her hands flying up to cover her mouth, Lorelai released a theatrical gasp. "Oops, I think I jinxed it!" Triumphantly raising her pinkie finger, Lorelai could barely contain her hilarity. Rolling her eyes, Rory obliged her mother, grasping her pinkie with her own as Tristan witnessed all this with pleasure.

"Jinx back, double pinkie, round the side, double pinkie, jinx back."

Thrusting both fists victoriously in the air, Lorelai exalted her success. "Woo!"

- - -

"Trissy…?"

Tristan was a good half of the way through his food when Rory's sing-songed voice traveled to his ears, the tone sparking instant suspicion. She wanted something. The burger on his plate paused in its trip to his mouth as Tristan eyed his girlfriend warily. "Yes…?"

Rory sent him a winning smile, her head falling to the side in an unmistakable tilt as she inched her empty coffee cup to settle at his elbow. "I'm out of coffee…"

"No…"

Rory whined, poking him insistently on the shoulder. "Pleeease?"

Tristan grunted, chewing at his burger. "Why me?"

Rory batted her eyelashes. "Because if memory serves me correctly, Luke is highly obstinate against giving me more coffee after my second cup. But he's not so obstinate against giving _you_ more coffee."

"Don't you think Luke would know that whatever coffee I ask for will probably be for you?"

Rory nodded solemnly, placing her hand atop Tristan's. "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Tristan gazed at Rory for a long moment. She reciprocated the gesture, her eyes wide. Looking into the endless blue of her sapphire spheres, Tristan felt his resolve crumble. Cursing his weakness when it came to the woman beside him, Tristan sighed, grabbing her mug. "Be right back," he mumbled compliantly.

Making his way to the counter, Tristan plunked the mug on the surface, motioning to Luke. "Coffee, please."

"Is it for her?" Luke asked, coffee pot wavering over the empty mug.

"Of course," Tristan sighed. At Luke's raised eyebrow, Tristan shrugged unapologetically. "She gave me the Look. I can't resist the Look."

Knowing exactly what he was talking about, Luke chuckled, letting the beverage flow into the cup. "I hear you. It's a Gilmore thing."

Before Tristan could turn to head back to the table, Luke stopped him. "Tristan." Looking him straight in the eye with the curt, surly affection only the diner owner could muster, wordlessly, he stuck out a hand, and Tristan grasped the offering, shaking it slowly.

"Thank you."

"I seem to be hearing that phrase a lot lately," Tristan mused, grinning. "And I ask again, what for?"

"You brought back Rory," Luke replied. "Nothing else could have made her that happy," he added, hitching his head to Lorelai.

"Which makes you happy in turn," Tristan finished, acutely aware of the situation.

Luke shrugged. "Of course. She wouldn't marry me until she and Rory reconciled."

"So your motives were purely personal?" Tristan chided, one eyebrow cocked knowingly at the diner owner.

"I'd do anything for her," Luke stated unabashedly and with supreme confidence. "I can have my moments of selfishness every once and awhile."

Tristan lofted the coffee cup in salute before turning back to the table. "Cheers to that, Luke."

- - -

Lorelai returned from the bathroom in Luke's apartment, strolling down the stairs. Hanging by the counter, she watched as Tristan finished his food, scooting the plate away from him. His clear blue eyes swept over her daughter's frame, her attention half focused on the food before her and half focused on him. She saw his handsome face split into a grin, and he reached out, tugging Rory's chair closer to him so he could snake one arm around her back. Jerked from her food-induced stupor by the sudden movement, Lorelai heard a delicate yelp of protest emanate from her daughter as she just managed to snag her food before her location shifted. Faking offense, Rory whirled in the embrace to face Tristan, one fry brandished. In response, Tristan only smirked in a way that was once infuriating as he darted forward, his teeth snatching the fry away before Rory could object. At the highly affronted look adorning her daughter's face, Tristan's smirk simply widened as he craned his neck forward, swiftly kissing the pout away.

As the pair parted, Lorelai caught the expression of absolute bliss adorning her daughter's face. Rory was happy. Really and truly happy for the first time in a long time, and Lorelai was positive that the blonde-haired man across from Rory was an extremely significant factor. She watched as Tristan leaned down, whispering intimately into Rory's ear, hitching his head towards the door of the diner in an unmistakable request. Rory nodded, slipping her hand into his, entwining their fingers together and allowing him to haul her to her feet. At the blatant eagerness Rory displayed, Lorelai couldn't help but smile as Tristan tugged her along, and the couple walked through the entryway.

"She looks happy, doesn't she?"

Lorelai started as she was yanked from her reverie, and she gazed up into the warm, comforting gaze of her favorite coffee provider as he sidled up beside her on the other side of the counter. Glancing back through the entrance where Rory and Tristan disappeared through, Lorelai nodded, sighing with content.

"Yeah, she does, and I think we have Tristan to thank for that."

"He's a good kid," Luke mused. "I never thought I'd say this, but if something…bigger ever came out of them, which I actually don't doubt will, I think I'd be okay with letting her go."

At his words, Lorelai immediately softened. Rory may have been Christopher Hayden's by blood, but she was Luke Dane's daughter in every other way. Luke had been there from the very beginning, through each birthday, each meaningless school pageant, and each important event. Through the gruff, slightly abrasive exterior lay a man who was unfailingly loyal, disarmingly steadfast, and unassumingly affectionate – though he would never admit to that last fact. Lorelai Leigh Gilmore bore the blood of another man, but that fact still didn't matter to Luke. He would be proud to call Rory his daughter, even if there was a conditional prefix attached to the title. Lorelai snuggled herself into the crook of Luke's arm, enjoying the warmth of his solid, distinctly male body.

"Aw, Lukie…are you having separation anxiety?"

A slight red tinged the diner owner's cheeks as he blushed. "Uh, well…you know…I've seen her grow and mature and become a….you know…a woman."

Lorelai took that moment to wonder if Christopher could honestly attest to the statement Luke had just uttered. She noted with despondent sadness that the father of her own child couldn't recall memories of his daughter's childhood; he had been too much of an infrequent bystander to honestly be able to share in Rory's triumphs and failures. Luke Danes, on the other hand, had been there for it all, and although she held a confident certainty that he wasn't aware of the fact, she had seen his little scrapbook tactically placed between his cookbooks on his apartment shelf that chronicled each and every year of Rory's life.

Luke sighed, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. "I've seen all the boyfriends, and nothing's really had that lasting feeling until Tristan. He's really made her…"

"Happy? Ecstatic? Absolutely jubilant?" Lorelai supplied.

Luke chuckled. "Yes to all of the above." He shrugged, "I just really think I'd be okay with them…"

"Me too," Lorelai agreed, smiling. "I would too." Turning to her fiancé, Lorelai wrapped her arms around his neck, caressing the soft fabric of his flannel collar.

"We're getting married, Lukie."

Luke let a smile worm its way through his features. "Yeah. We finally are…"

- - -

Rory and Tristan exited the diner, hand in hand. Making their way down the street, the pair stopped occasionally to converse with the various Stars Hollow inhabitants that had approached to greet them. They halted first beside Kirk, who implored them to stay silent for fear of ruining his 'chi.' After a interesting conversation involving animated hand gestures and facial expressions, Tristan and Rory bade him goodbye before they were immediately accosted by Taylor Doose who congratulated Tristan and Rory on their 'union' as he called it, saying that thanks to their timely courtship, he was a good amount richer due to the town-wide betting pool. Unsure of how to respond, the pair only managed a polite "You're welcome." As Taylor scurried back to his store, Rory held fast to Tristan as he attempted to bolt once Ms. Patty had set her sights on them from her dance studio. He shrank back behind her and bravely endured their conversation, gradually inching away from her reach. His escape proved to be futile as Patty's subtle grab at his butt cheeks permeated his defenses before she returned to the elementary school children meticulously twirling in her studio. Babette thankfully spared Tristan's butt cheeks as she conversed with the couple, but the same couldn't be said for his facial cheeks as she grasped his head, pinching the various spots on his features and smacking enthusiastic kisses to his cheeks.

Finally alone, the couple strolled down the street, joined hands swinging slightly. Rory's countenance had taken on a contented, light appearance that had not been present since the beginning of the whole ordeal. Rory sighed happily, drawing herself as close to him as she could, laying her head against his shoulder. She glanced up as a deep chuckle rumbled through Tristan's chest.

"Happy?"

Rory propped her chin on his shoulder, nuzzling her nose against the fabric of his jacket. "Absolutely."

They continued on their walk, just reveling in the presence of each other. As Rory felt the feeling of utter joy permeate through her body, she halted suddenly, an intent look gracing her features. At her sudden lack of movement, Tristan rotated towards her, his mouth open in question. Before he could formulate a sentence, Rory pounced, backing him against the side of the nearest building, throwing her arms around his neck. Whatever comment he had ready on his tongue was muffled by her lips. Tristan grunted in surprise as Rory's insistent tongue slipped between his parted lips, roaming the depths of his mouth in search of his own tongue. It took Tristan a moment to realize what she was doing and half of a heartbeat to respond. Sweeping her up into his arms, her body already pinning his to the building, Tristan buried his hands in her hair, holding her tight against him. Thanking whatever higher power that had compelled his Mary to engage in such a public display of affection, Tristan took control of the kiss, prompting a drawn-out whimper from the woman in his arms.

As they parted, the need for oxygen becoming an issue, Tristan allowed a wide, pleased smile bloom across his face as he gazed down at his girl. His eyes twinkling with an undisguised mirth, he lay his forehead against hers, caressing the arms that had wound around his neck.

"What was that for?"

Rory shrugged slightly, raking her fingers through the pale, downy strands of his hair. Craning upwards, she gently nudged his nose with hers. "I…I just don't know how to thank you, Tristan."

A crease appeared on his brow as Tristan frowned in confusion. "Thank me?" Chuckling, Tristan ran a hand through his hair. "That is surely a trend lately. First Lorelai, then Luke, and now you." Unsure of to what she was alluding to, Tristan tilted his head. "For what?"

Rory sighed, her fingers continuing to play with his blonde locks, feeling the slight scratch of his stubbled chin brush against her cheek. "For all of this." She hitched her head in the general direction of the town, encompassing their surroundings in a collective gesture. "For bringing me back here, for helping me to reunite with my mom…" Rory trailed off.

"Just…thank you. I have no idea how to repay you after all you've done."

"Aw, Mar," Tristan exhaled deeply, gently caressing her velvet skin with the pads of his fingers. The warm navy of his eyes shone with a complete and utter devotion to the woman wrapped up in his embrace. "You don't have to repay me in any way."

"But this is such a gesture, Tristan," Rory protested, "I mean, I barely understand why you're doing this."

"Because…" Tristan paused, three words lingering on the tip of his tongue. They beat against his lips in an effort to escape, but as Tristan gazed into the remarkably sapphire sheen of Rory's eyes, he swallowed them back down. There was no way she was ready to hear them from him. Sure, he had said them before, but the context was a completely different situation. He knew the consequences of revealing those particular sentiments, as evidenced in the past, and although they may have been said with the intention of bringing them closer, they may prove to push her away.

Rory noticed his floundering, cocking her head in anticipation. "Because?" She prompted, waiting for him to complete his thought.

"Because I care," Tristan answered honestly. "Because I've always cared." Guiding her to a bench, Tristan settled down beside her and turned to face her.

"Look, what I'm about to say is going to be completely sappy, and you're probably gonna think I'm a total lush about this, but I'm asking for a few minutes of a grace period here where anything I say cannot be held against me nor is warrant for later ridicule or mocking, okay?"

Rory responded with a serious nod, seeing the depths of his sincerity in his open gaze. Tristan huffed out a sigh, running one hand through the tousled mop of his hair. "I…I feel for you, Rory. Whenever you're happy, I'm ecstatic; when you're sad, I'm crushed. When you cry…I want nothing more than to make it all stop." Tristan drew in a deep breath, the struggle to articulate his feelings evident in his tensed posture and the concentrated sheen to his light eyes.

"When we…when we first repaired our friendship, it…it hurt me to see you the way you were." Tristan gesticulated with his hands, his gaze fixated away from her eyes as he attempted to verbalize the ambiguous emotions swirling within him. "I knew you as a vibrant, independent focused woman, and to see you so lost with so much doubt in the future that I knew used to be the one certainty you had aside from your mother was…" Tristan shook his head, faltering in his attempt to find the correct word. "It was almost devastating."

"Tristan…"

"Just…just let me get this out, Ror." He huffed out a beleaguered sigh. "You used to be so sure of yourself, so confident in your abilities. You never needed a guy to help you along." Tristan chuckled. "I mean, you were so set in your course, and it hurt me to see the offhand words of some…putz with a few newspapers under his control affect you so much."

Tristan anxiously scratched the fine hairs at his neck, his nose scrunched up in thought. "For once, I wanted to be your knight-in-shining-armor. I wanted to ride up on a white horse and vanquish the demons haunting you." Tristan shrugged sheepishly. "For once, I wanted to save you. Pay you back for saving me."

Rory's eyes grew wide in bewilderment. "I never saved you."

"Oh, but you did," Tristan corrected, wagging one finger. "When you knocked my ego down all those years ago, I realized I wasn't the guy you needed…yet. Then I got shipped off and realized I had to change to be the guy at least a little bit worthy of you." Tristan dipped his head down, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her forehead with a gentle touch. "I'd still be the same idiot I always was if it wasn't for you."

"I just wanted to make everything okay," He finished, shrugging unapologetically.

Rory could only stare, finding the ability to form words wander away from her grasp. "Why?"

Tristan chuckled, glancing away in slight embarrassment. "Geeze, this whole spiel is completely emasculating me right now…" Tristan grabbed one of her hands, using the other to gently cradle her soft features. "Because you smiling makes my whole world right again."

Rory let out a giggle, shoving softly at his shoulder as his heartfelt words washed over her, basking her in a warm, giddy glow. "Wow, Tristan. You should write that down. Never know when it could be used in one of Riley's novels…"

"Hey, you promised a grace period that doesn't warrant mocking or ridicule. I told you it was uncharacteristic…"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist." Rory shook her head, ruffling his hair. "Your feelings would never warrant mocking or ridicule, Tristan. Especially not from me."

Tristan flashed her a smirk she could only describe as infuriatingly sexy as he cocked his head to meet her eyes. "Wow, Mar. You should write that down. Never know when it could be used in one of Riley's novels…"

Rory's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as her words were turned back on her. Lashing out, she moved to smack him on the arm when he deftly caught the intended blow, tugging her closer. Using her conveniently parted lips as encouragement, Tristan descended down, wrapping her in a deep lip lock. Smiling beneath the soft caresses of his mouth, Rory returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers tangled in the recesses of his blonde locks.

Parting, Rory gazed up into his navy eyes, raging with a torrent of different feelings and sentiments, the open emotion causing her breath to hitch slightly. Dipping his head down, Tristan brushed a feather soft kiss against her lips before throwing an arm around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side, laying her head against his shoulder. The couple sat there for a moment, taking in the flurry of activity around them. As he lay back against the wood of the bench, Tristan felt Rory tense at his side, and he glanced down, his mouth open in anticipation of his question. Before he could voice his inquiry, one name spilled from Rory's lips in a tone tinged with both aversion and a slight aggravation.

"Dean…"

- - -

Back in New Haven, Finn and Paris walked hand in hand towards Finn's apartment, casting shy glances at each other. The drive back to Connecticut had been filled with contemplative silence interspersed with random bouts of conversation. Both were aware that they had traveled away from the safe haven of New York and back to the real world of what was soon to be the halls of Yale University. And to be honest, both weren't quite sure what the future held for them and their relationship. For now, both figured they could just wing it. Finn halted at his door, gesturing with a hitch of his head to what lay behind the entryway.

"So…would you like to come in?"

A small, tentative smile spread across Paris' face as she nodded. "That would be nice."

Fitting the key into the lock, Finn unlocked the door and had opened the entrance, prepared to usher his guest in when a shout alerted his attention.

"Finnegan!"

Finn rotated to find Logan Huntzberger striding up to them, his expression a good amount brighter than when he had last left his friend. "Huntz. You're looking well."

Whatever residual pain Logan felt from his break up with Rory was stifled behind an indifferent façade as he shrugged, spreading his arms wide. "What can I say, I've had some pretty potent distractions."

Finn couldn't help but flinch at the implication behind Logan's words, and he only nodded. Paris, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. "Another floozy bimbo warming your bed? Nice to know your standards have changed."

Logan's dark eyes flicked over to his friend's companion, and he cocked an eyebrow at the new development at Finn's side. "Gellar," he acknowledged, his interest clearly piqued, "don't you have some poor, hapless soul to harass?"

"Clearly, I've found one," Paris parried, her anger at the injustice the boy before her had served to her closest friend and the sister of one of her oldest friends palpable in its appearance.

"Ouch, Gellar. That one really punctured something," Logan returned, feigning hurt.

"As though anything less than an atomic explosion could puncture your ego, Huntzberger," Paris countered, wryly.

"Excellent company you keep, Finn," Logan commented, eyebrow quirked.

"I'd like to think so," Finn affirmed, his voice soft.

Logan only smirked, quickly diverting the subject. "So, Finnegan, the LDB is holding another event over the weekend. I understand that you'll be there?"

Remembering that he and Paris had planned a date that day, Finn hesitated before shaking his head. "No can do, mate. I've got a prior engagement."

"And what 'engagement' could possibly hold precedence over an LDB event?" Logan's tone was incredulous as he stared at his Aussie counterpart.

Finn stuck his hands in his pockets, shuffling uncomfortably. "Something pretty important," he replied, his response vague in the least.

Logan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What happened in New York, Finn?" Logan questioned, eyeing his friend closely. "You normally jump at a chance to attend this kind of thing."

Finn could only shrug. "Like I said, it's important."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "More important than the LDB?"

Unconsciously, Finn moved closer to Paris until their arms brushed, and she placed a reassuring hand on his elbow. "Yeah, I'd say so…"

Realization dawned suddenly on Logan, and he started in surprise. "Wait a second," Logan's eyes flicked from Paris to Finn, the pieces finally falling into place. "_You two_?"

"Took him long enough," Paris snarked sardonically, turning to Finn. For his part, Finn simply stood there, his expression guarded as he gauged his friend's reaction.

Logan's eyes whipped frantically to Finn. "Are you serious?"

"For the first time in my life, yeah," Finn answered. "I'm serious."

"What the hell?" Logan practically spat as the world as he knew it abruptly tilted even further off of its axis. "You're Declan Finnegan. You don't do serious."

"Things change, Huntz," Finn responded, his tone ambiguous. "Let's just say I've seen what serious can do."

"Unbelievable," Logan breathed out, completely dumbstruck. "The whole world's gone wacky." Still dazed at the revelation, Logan rotated, heading back down the hall without another word.

Finn called weakly after Logan's retreating back. "Huntz…" The blonde man didn't heed the appeal, only quickening his step. As Logan disappeared around the corner, Finn rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly struck with weariness. Sighing heavily, Finn swiveled to his girlfriend, his tone dry. "That went well…"

Paris could only nod her agreement. "Yeah…"

As they entered the apartment, Finn's mind lingered on the unreadable expression adorning Logan's face. He wasn't quite sure what Logan's emotions were on the subject of the new relationship Finn held with Paris, but he definitely hoped Logan had enough care for their friendship to at least try and accept the circumstances. Finn did have to admit that Huntz didn't look so well after the revelation, and the Aussie could only hope the newspaper heir didn't do something stupid…

- - -

"Dean…"

At the sound of her ex-boyfriend's name, his loathing of the Beanstalk a close second to Logan Huntzberger, Tristan stiffened instinctively, and his eyes plummeted down to survey his girlfriend. Rory craned her head backward, meeting his eyes that betrayed a slight insecurity. Intrinsically sensing his discomfort, Rory sought to reassure him. One hand drifted up to gently caress his cheek, she stretched upward, brushing a sweet kiss across his lips. Her hot breath against his ear, Tristan quirked a grin as she whispered a single phrase that provided him a strong sense of comfort.

"Only you."

Framing her face with his palms, Tristan reciprocated the gesture, leaning down to capture her lips, prompting a slight sigh with an intoxicating nip of her bottom lip before pulling away with a smile.

"You outgrew your 'tall, awkward, and gangly' stage anyway…"

Playfully pushing at his shoulder, their romantic interlude was interrupted as the object of Rory's earlier repugnance made his presence known with an overly dramatic greeting.

"Rory? Is that you?"

Forcing the urge to roll her eyes at his exceedingly incredulous tone, Rory braced herself before turning to the source of the salutation, making sure to keep her tone neutral. "Dean."

Rory rose to meet him, crossing around the bench to intercept the tall man before he saw Tristan. Dean's face brightened immediately as he gazed with adoration at the woman he had never quite let go.

"Wow, hey. I didn't know you were back in town. I thought…"

"Yeah. I know," Rory interrupted his implied statement before the memory could rear again. "That's all in the past now."

Dean nodded enthusiastically, his full focus occupied as he stood enraptured at the sight of his ex-girlfriend. "Well, that's great. What made you change your mind?"

Rory dipped her head, a shy smile creeping across her features. "Tristan did."

At the mention of Tristan, Dean's face immediately darkened, and he recoiled slightly. "The accountant? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well, he's here for one thing," Rory answered.

"He's _here_?" Dean's head swiveled for any sign of the man he hated with such a passion.

Rory confirmed his suspicion. "Yeah."

As if on cue, Tristan leaned forward from his obscured position behind the shrubbery. Bracing his forearms on his knees, he dutifully smirked at Dean, treating the other man with a wave of his fingertips. Rising from his seat, he sidled up beside Rory, positioning himself behind her.

"Hey-ya, Deanie. Long time no see."

Dean's dark gaze shifted from one face to the other, not bothering to hide his aversion for the blonde-haired man. "What are you doing here, accountant?"

Slipping effortlessly into the persona he used to hold with pride, Tristan quirked a grin, bobbing on the balls of his feet. "Ah, Bean…the obvious always seems to elude your comprehension, doesn't it? Of course I'm here with Rory."

"Funny, I didn't know you were resorting to stalking a girl to gain her affections," Dean retorted, his face rapidly coloring with his ire.

Tristan couldn't resist the urge to smirk. Oh, irritating Dean was a wonderful pastime. "Didn't think you were _that_ dim-witted to misconstrue the fact that I drove Rory here, Dean-o."

Dean bristled, his face rapidly flushing red with anger. Just when Tristan thought the Beanstalk was going to take a swing, a shout tore Dean's attention away from the one person he hated with every fiber of his being.

"Dean! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere."

Ripping his eyes away from Rory and Tristan, Dean forced a pleased smile on his face as he turned to the familiar voice. "Lindsay! Hey, honey."

Grabbing his wife, Dean proceeded to make a ostentatious exhibit of affection as he drew her close, kissing her with an disgustingly noticeable passion. Eyes wide with an amused air, Tristan and Rory could only watch the display, resisting the urge to meet the other's eyes for fear of completely losing composure.

As the couple finally parted for air, Lindsay turned to the brunette her husband had been conversing with, eyeing her with a wary stare. "Oh, Rory! Hey. I heard you were back in town."

Nodding, Rory shifted her gaze to Tristan, shooting him a warm smile as she tangled their hands together. "Yeah. I just got back this afternoon."

Lindsay glanced apprehensively at Rory's companion, clandestinely gauging the relationship he held with the girl that had made her feel so defenseless in her own relationship. "Oh, I know. The whole town was in a buzz with the whole separation you and Lorelai had. But it's nice to have you back."

Rory shrugged, her eyes once again seeking Tristan's in an unconscious search for support. His deep, navy eyes shone down on her with an absolute affection as he didn't say a word, just stood there, his hand grasped with hers. Rory unconsciously snuggled into his side, turning her attention back to Lindsay. "Yeah, well, I needed a little push to send me in the right direction."

Immediately, the blonde's demeanor warmed as she sensed nothing threatening about the woman who had held her husband's heart in such a vice grip so long ago. It had seemed that every second with Dean, she had been vying for his affection against a woman he swore he would never have anything to do with again. In fact, Lindsay noticed with resounding relief that Rory's attentions seemed to be completely focused on the tall, handsome man beside her.

Her disposition drastically changed, Lindsay turned to Tristan, a welcoming smile on her face. "Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm Lindsay Forrester, Dean's wife. And, you are…?" Lindsay looked him up and down, approval evident in her eyes. "You seem very familiar."

Rory gestured to her significant other. "Lindsay, this is my boyfriend, Tristan Dugrey. He used to be quite the fixture in Stars Hollow." Remembering the fight Lindsay had caught between Dean, Jess, Riley, and Tristan, Rory hesitated before continuing. "I don't think you've met."

Tristan shot out an engaging smile, offering his hand out in greeting. "Pleasure to meet you, Lindsay."

Instantly charmed by Tristan's striking features and easy charisma, Lindsay grasped his hand, shaking it slowly. "Well, Tristan, the pleasure is all mine." Motioning between him and Rory, Lindsay gushed. "You two make the most beautiful couple."

Tristan's grin widened as he drew Rory closer, a loving gaze sent down her way. "Thanks."

"How long have you two been together?"

"Oh…" Tristan faltered at the question as his eyes flitted down to Rory. His masculine pride wished to spew a bit of a hyperbole just to irk the Beanstalk, but his honest heart didn't wish to anger Rory in any way. Thankfully, the wonderful woman at his side resolved his conflict.

Rory gently prodded her boyfriend, a wide smile gracing her features. "Now, Bible Boy, no need to be shy. It's okay, you can say it." Turning back to the blonde, Rory lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sorry, Lindsay, Tristan likes to be low-key, but we've been dating for a few months." Rory squeezed Tristan's hand, hiding her entertainment behind a serious stare. "Three next Wednesday, right, Bible Boy?"

A highly amused smirk on his face, Tristan dropped his arm to encircle her waist, placing a kiss to the nape of her neck. "That's right, Mary. About that long."

"Geeze, you guys could have fooled me. From the way you two act, I would have thought you'd been at it for years! And I love those nicknames," Lindsay answered, observing them closely. From beside his wife, Dean could only watch, a surly expression lighting his features.

Tristan nodded, a smile creeping across his face. "Yeah, they have nostalgic value from high school."

"I originally hated it, but it soon became a term of endearment," Rory added, splaying one hand on his chest, her fingers slipping through the lapels of his button-down shirt beneath his jacket to lightly caress his the skin beneath her fingertips.

Lindsay glanced between the couple. "Oh, I didn't know you two went to the same high school."

"We did," Rory confirmed. "For about a year and a half."

"Then I got sent to military school," Tristan inserted, a wistful expression clouding his eyes.

"Yeah, Tristan here was quite the player in high school," Dean piped up, barely able to conceal the bitterness in his voice. "Chased after Rory for awhile. She absolutely _hated_ him."

Retaining his composure, the only evidence of his discomfort in the tightening of his jaw, Tristan shrugged his assent, explaining to Lindsay, "I admit, I wasn't the best guy, but military school straightened me out. When I came back, I was set on showing Rory who I really was."

Rory turned shining eyes to her reformed delinquent. "I have to say, he dazzled me." Shrugging, she directed her next comment more to the man beside her than the couple across from them. "I was wrong about him," she murmured, meeting his eyes, the significant implication passed between them.

Enraptured by their story, Lindsay gasped. "Ohmigod, you two are totally like _Pride and Prejudice_! You've definitely got this Darcy/Elizabeth thing going on…"

Tristan chuckled. "Yeah, we do. We even had our own Mr. Wickham, too."

Lindsay couldn't help but be amazed. "Gosh, only three months? I swear, it seems like you guys are pros at this whole relationship thing."

"Well, we had this…moment between us a year ago, but…" Tristan turned a cool gaze to Dean, "extenuating circumstances got in the way of us getting together.

"Then we ran into each other when he came home from California," Rory finished.

"I go to Stanford," Tristan explained. "We started talking at my 'welcome home' party and decided to give it another go."

"And you've been together ever since?" Lindsay inquired.

Tristan only grinned. "Of course. I finally got my second chance with her." With a calm, deliberate air, Tristan turned his gaze in Dean's direction. "And I'm not stupid enough to screw up that second chance."

Rory caught the visible tension wracking through Dean's posture as he subtly squared up to his counterpart, jaw set and eyes blazing. Tristan merely cocked an eyebrow, returning the unmistakable challenge with one of his own, his clear navy eyes coolly regarding Dean with a nonchalant air. But with Lindsay beside him, Dean could only glower as he found himself losing the silent round between himself and Tristan.

As the two men, one of whom once held her affections and the other currently in possession of her heart, glared at each other in the most overt display of male posturing Rory had ever witnessed, she couldn't help but compare them. There was no doubt that they had both changed since their last confrontation so long ago during a time of their teenaged adolescence, and the changes in their features was prime evidence of the time that had passed. Both had abandoned the clean-shaven look, and the stubble decorating Dean's cheeks and chin attempted to serve the purpose of an older, adult appearance. But in Rory's opinion, the faint hair seemed awkwardly out of place on the rounded curves of his face. Her eyes drifted to the pale shadow gracing Tristan's features. She had always loved how the dark dusting of hair adorned his strong chin and defined cheekbones, giving him a rugged, utterly masculine appearance. She loved running her hands down his face, reveling in the sharp contrast of his soft, smooth skin of his forehead and nose to his coarse facial hair, a product of Tristan's intrinsic laziness to shave. Rory shook her head. It was amazing how much her opinion of the two men had changed since she had last seen them together to a point where she preferred one appearance of stubble over another.

Breaking the battle of wills, Tristan turned to Rory. "You know, we should get going. Your mom's probably waiting for us at the Crap Shack."

Rory nodded her agreement before turning to Dean and Lindsay. "It was nice seeing you both."

"You, too," Lindsay answered. "I really hope we'll be seeing more of you, Tristan."

Tristan chuckled at the distressed look that skated across Dean's features at the prospect, and he smirked, his eyes meeting Bag Boy's. "Well, Lindsay, I'd say that'd be a definite possibility." He nudged the woman at his side. "Wherever Rory is, I'll be right beside." With one final wave, the pair departed, heading down the street towards the Gilmore house. As they walked along, Tristan caught the obscure amber of Dean's gaze following them. His dark eyes held a sheen of absolute longing, despondent at the way everything had turned out. Tristan knew that Dean saw his relationship with Rory as what could have been. But what Tristan said was true. Now that he had gotten his chance, damn if he wasn't going to make it count. From that moment, Tristan Dugrey had made it his mission to be the last man Rory Gilmore would ever want, or need for that manner.

- - -

Lorelai's gaze followed her daughter out of the room as Rory exited the second-floor bathroom to unpack. She allowed her eyes to linger at the doorway, no bothering to impede the pleased smile to skate across her features. Lane was right. All was right in the world.

"Oh! Oh my God!"

Alarmed, Lorelai's head perked up as she shouted out the room. "What?"

"Come down here," came the response.

"I'm coming!" At her strident call, Lorelai frowned, trumping down the stairs and sliding up beside her daughter. "What?"

Rory gazed at the dog situated on their coffee table, recognizing him as the canine that had bounded down the porch steps when she had first arrived. "He has emerged. I'm assuming that's Paul Anka."

"Well, it ain't Louis Prima," Lorelai remarked.

Rory frantically waved her hands, raising her voice towards the large dog. "Shoo! Shoo!"

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at his girlfriend. "What are you doing?"

"He shouldn't be on the table," Rory saw fit to point out.

"That's his favorite spot," Lorelai defended. "What are you going to do next, tell him he can't drink out of my water glass?"

"Sorry." Rory eyed the dog carefully. "How should I approach him?"

Lorelai motioned to her daughter as Tristan looked on, his eyes laughing with mirth. "Follow me."

"'Kay."

As they reached the landing, Lorelai thrust out an arm, impeding Rory's progress. "Okay, stop." As her daughter obliged, Lorelai gestured to the next room. "Now go in the kitchen and put sugar on your toes.

Rory did a double take at her mother's words, unsure if she heard correctly. "What?"

"And quickly! Because first impressions are crucial and you're blowing it big time."

"Sugar on my toes?" Rory repeated, the idea sounding even more ridiculous as she restated her mother's command out loud.

Lorelai confirmed her query with a completely serious nod. 'Yes, he loves sugar, so the first time you come close to him, if you've got sugar on your toes that he can lick and enjoy, you're in."

"He's going to lick it?"

Lorelai grabbed her daughter's shoulders, whirling her around and pushing her towards the kitchen. "Go, quick!"

Stumbling slightly, Rory rushed into the kitchen. "Okay!"

"Wet your toes first so it sticks!"

At her mother's command, Rory straightened, brow furrowed in confusion. "What?

"Dry sugar on a dry toe isn't going to work!" Lorelai shouted matter-of-factly from the living room.

Rory rolled her eyes, huffing with vexation in a manner strongly reminiscent of Luke Danes. "Oh, jeez." Wetting a paper towel, she grabbed the sugar from the cabinet, sprinkling it over her toes. "I'm making a mess!"

Lorelai held back her giggled beginning to bubble up, refusing to look over at Tristan as he endured the same struggle. "Don't worry about the mess!"

"We're going to have ants!" Rory complained, her petulant voice floating from the kitchen.

"Hurry!" Lorelai hastily entreated her daughter.

"I'm coming!"

Padding into the living room, wary of the sugar on her toes, Rory glanced up at her mother sitting with the reason of all her trouble. "Okay, my toes are all sugared."

Lorelai clapped her hands. "Okay, good! Now do the hokey-pokey and turn yourself around."

Rory had actually begun the movements when she halted, swiveling to her mother. "What?"

Finally unleashing the bout of laughter that had threatened to emerge during the whole ordeal, Lorelai shook her head. "All you have to do is pet him and you're in!"

Rory thrust her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at her mother. 'You're evil."

Rubbing her hands gleefully, Lorelai didn't bother to refute her claim. "Yes, I am."

Whirling, Rory pointed at her boyfriend as he indulged in his own laughter, leaning against the banister of the staircase. "And you're not any better." Rory jumped as a wet doggy tongue diverted her from her rant, and she leaned down to pet Paul Anka. "Hey, there, boy!" Giggling as his tongue ran through the divots between her toes, Rory scratched him behind the ears. "Oh, that tickles!"

Lorelai joined her daughter by their dog, rubbing his soft fur. "Well, he's glad you're here!" Lorelai met Rory's eyes, blue on blue. "So am I." She sought out Tristan's gaze. "Both of you."

Rory threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly. "Me too."

Tristan could only nod his agreement, not wishing to intrude on the mother-daughter moment. "Yeah."

- - -

"So…I was thinking…"

Cuddled on the couch following a lengthy movie night celebrating the reunion, Rory tilted her head up to her boyfriend, smirking impishly. "Did it hurt?"

"Original," Tristan deadpanned.

"I try," Rory returned. "So, what were you thinking."

"Weeell," Tristan drew out the word. "We've never had our first official date."

Rory quirked an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And how long have you been thinking about this little tidbit?"

"Since we've been back," Tristan answered, his tone slightly evasive.

"Why?"

Tristan shrugged, glad that she faced away from him. "I denno. Being back here brings back so many memories, and it got me thinking."

"And…?" Rory prompted, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

Tristan brushed aside the hair spilling down the nape of her neck, dipping his head down to nibble at the curve of her neck and shoulder. "We've kinda done this dating thing backwards."

Rory giggled, burrowing down deeper into his warm embrace. "How so, pray tell?"

"Well, we kissed before we liked each other," Tristan rolled his eyes as Rory shot him a reproving look over her shoulder. "Okay, fine, before _you_ liked _me_. We slept together before we ever dated; we spent a year not talking before we started dating," Tristan ticked off. Chuckling, he squeezed Rory's sides. "Face it, babe, we really suck at this courtship deal."

Rory shook her head, shifting so that she faced him. "What is this, Tristan, the nineteenth century? So what if our methods were a bit unorthodox? End justifies the means, right?"

Tristan shrugged, playing with a wayward strand of hair that had wandered onto her cheek. "Maybe, but I want to do this right, Ror. And doing this right entails you and I going out for a very nice night on the town that involves dinner, some sort of activity," Tristan's grin widened, the mischievous spark in his eyes prevalent in the navy spheres, "and if we just happen to have sex afterwards, well, so be it."

Rory pressed herself up against his body, fitting her curves against his muscled chest. Thankful that her mother had long gone to sleep, pleading early rising for the next day, she shifted suggestively against his firm torso, reveling in his groan. "Confident, are you, Dugrey?"

Gathering his composure, Tristan only lifted a corner of his mouth in another grin. "Ah, Mary, Mary, _Mary_, when have I _ever_ lacked in confidence?" Weaving his fingers through her hair, Tristan dipped his head down, catching her lips in a sweet kiss.

Rory sighed into the lip lock, clutching the thin fabric of his sleep shirt as his thigh slipped between her legs. "True. So true."

Tristan beamed as she deepened the kiss, suckling at his bottom lip. Kissing a path to the shell of her ear, Tristan capturing her lobe between his teeth. "So I'll pick you up at seven?"

Rory withheld a breathless gasp, her fingers tightening against the cotton of his shirt. "I'll even give you a ten minute grace period." The sentence ended in a whimper as Tristan's nomadic lips wandered to her pulse point, eliciting a low moan coupled with an unconscious grind against his thigh.

"Ten minutes?" Tristan questioned, his male ego swelling at Rory's responsiveness.

Finding it difficult to form coherent thoughts with the sinful ministrations Tristan's lips worked against her skin, Rory managed to muster a retort in her defense. "Hey, a lot of stuff can happen from the couch to my bedroom."

"Oh, yes. And I can think of a lot of things…"

Rory's hands had slid up from his chest to clutch at his hair as he found his way back to her mouth. "Pig," she managed to pant out.

"Not my fault you opened the door," Tristan mumbled against her lips, his tongue snaking out to tease hers. "So seven it is."

Rory nodded her agreement as his mouth halted all further conversation. Rory allowed her eyes to drift shut, parting her lips to permit his velvet tongue to caress hers. Plunging her hands through the silky strands of his hair, Rory shivered as a wave of sensation rollicked down her spine as Tristan's roving fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt, splaying against her spine. Pulling away as the breath rushed from his lungs, Tristan gazed down at the woman in his arms, her lips slightly swollen from their passionate exchanges and eyes glazed with the dual armament of arousal and exhilaration. Rory met his eyes, her breath coming in ragged pants. She could feel the warmth of his gaze wash over her body. A small smile curled a corner of his mouth, and placing one last kiss on her lips, Tristan cradled her head against his chest, tucking her beneath his chin. Burrowing into his torso, her nose nuzzling against the fabric of his t-shirt and inhaling his distinct scent, Rory felt herself begin to succumb to her fatigue. "Tris?"

His eyes closed, Tristan only cuddled her closer. "Hmm?"

Rory echoed her mother's earlier words. "I'm glad you're here." The statement came out in barely a whisper, but the claim resonated deeply in his ears. Tristan only smiled.

"Me too, Mary. Me too."

They stayed there in comfortable silence before a thought struck Tristan, and he nudged his girlfriend. "So…three months, huh?"

Rory's eyes flew open as she lashed out to smack his chest at his audacity. "Shut up!"

_And cut! Twenty eight pages later, and here we are. Another chapter finished. That is one appearance of an old character out of three that I have planned. The next appearance will come very soon, beginning with the end of the next chapter. I have some surprises in store that begin with a bit of love for Tristan and Rory as they go on their first official date. The next chapter will deal with all of the relationships and Lorelai and Rory will confront the issues they have avoided this chapter. Warning: the next chapter will have a bit of angst, a lot of sexual tension, and one more plot twist…Stay tuned._

_Roxy_

_PS. As a side note, I wasn't too satisfied with the way chapter 18 turned out, so I took out the mature scene, which I felt was the cause of my problems. If you are still interested in reading that scene, PM me, and I'll send it to you. Thanks!_


	20. Author's Note

Hey Readers,

Roxy here to just let you know that I am alive and well. I apologize for the extreme lack of updates as well as the fact that this really isn't a chapter. I will hopefully post a new chapter within the next few weeks, but with the way my schedule has been going, I'm not sure if I will actually hold up that promise. I'll try my hardest though.

Just to offer some kind of explanation, which you may or may not wish to know, the reason I haven't been posting is that I have actually been working on an original novel that has turned into quite the monstrous epic. A few of my English teachers have hinted towards helping me to actually publish the novel, so I've been working double-time to revise and edit so that dream may become a reality. Wish me luck!

Roxy


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